


Missing

by sbdrag



Series: Lost Things [1]
Category: Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: Hopefully it wasn't the one where they all die, I have no idea what ending is cannon so I won't touch that much, I have not finished playing the first Deus Ex, M/M, Post-Game, Pritchard has a past, Slow Build, Slow Burn, literally it's daily, slow slow slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:13:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2512238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbdrag/pseuds/sbdrag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francis Pritchard goes missing, and as Adam Jensen sets out to find him, it brings up a lot more of the tech's past than he anticipated.</p><p>An attack by a gang is only the beginning in this exploration of the life of Francis Wendell Pritchard; where he's been and where he's going; and quite possibly, how Adam Jensen fits into it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer on why I wrote this:
> 
> A) There is not enough Pritchard/Jensen fanfiction  
> B) Of the fanfiction there is, there are recurring things I don't agree with;  
> 1) Pritchard going to bodily save Jensen by using a gun or acting as a distraction  
> i) Mainly because you really think Jensen needs to be saved by Pritchard?  
> 2) WHY IS IT STILL ALL ABOUT JENSEN!?!?!?!? I know about Jensen! What about Pritchard??  
> i) Why is Pritchard's family always normal or vaguely non-existant?  
> ii) And why does Pritchard always need to talk Jensen though his shit? Or deal with his shit, but Pritchard has zero baggage of his own?  
> 3) More just a personal preference, but why is Pritchard always auto-gay?  
> i) I mean, Jensen is usually either straight or bi or just not remarked on, but Pritchard is always automatically gay  
> ii) I personally see him more as asexual, not attracted physically to either gender. Not sure about romantic inclinations, though. 
> 
>  
> 
> So, now you know what to/not to expect. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (Also, this story might take awhile.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pritchard goes missing, and it seems suspicious.

## Sarif Industries 09:00:54

The day started. I got up, showered and dressed for work, and tried not to look at myself in the mirror. It had taken long enough for my landlord to replace the last one. I didn’t need to break another one.

Cindy greeted me as I walked in. I don’t remember if I replied or not. It’s been getting harder to care. Since Panchaea, since… Megan. I hadn’t seen her since the lab in Singapore. I’m still not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad one.

I made it to my office without any major disasters; then again, things had stabilized since I got back. I logged in and checked my emails. There was nothing new from the Boss, or Athene. It was Monday, so I was supposed to have a security review from Pritchard. He was usually in before me to complete it, but it wasn’t too out of place that he was occasionally late with it. So I read the report from Haas. He’d become my night physical security manager shortly after hiring on. Seemed nothing out of place had happened last week. Some taggers around the back, but nothing serious. Of course not.

I guess I should be happy that things had become so normal. I just feel restless. It’s hard to go back to normal. To have to face myself now. It was easy to ignore the changes, when I was travelling halfway around the world to find the truth. Now that I’d found it… I just wanted to lose myself in something new. Preferably before I break another mirror.

I broke from my distraction. No email from Pritchard. I drummed my fingers on my desk. The augment made a different sound than fingers would, and I stared at the black hand. With a sigh, I rose from my desk. I’d go to Pritchard directly and find out what the problem was. I nodded to the coworkers that greeted me along the way, but avoided conversation. After everything else, small talk was just an annoyance.

Pritchard’s office was locked. I looked through the looking-glass, but the Chief of Cyber Security didn’t appear to be inside. There was also a distinct lack of chesire cats and angry red queens. I shook my head at the thought, but a small alarm went off in the back of my mind. For as long as I could remember, Pritchard had never missed a day of work. I shook my head. That doesn’t mean anything is wrong. I hacked the door panel anyways. Pritchard had probably changed the code again, and hacking it would at least annoy him. 

I entered the office. It was as it ever was. Bike being repaired on a piece of cardboard, computer monitors in an arch, various items scattered across the floor. Pritchard’s backpack was missing, so the tech definitely wasn’t here. Staying my (probably) unnecessary excitement at the prospect of something interesting, I went to Pritchard’s desk. Nothing seemed out of place as I slowly took a seat. I booted up the screen, then hacked into the box. Pritchard had upped his security again. I felt the faint tug of a smile, once. If the tech lead kept this up, I’d never have to worry about getting out of practice.

I scanned Pritchard’s email. Another pitch to Picus? I shook my head. He’d never learn. Then I paused. I reread the email, Pritchard’s reply to one of his subordinates from Friday.

_Dennis,_

_I see the problem you’re talking about with the malformed SYN packets. It doesn’t seem to be a major issue, so we’ll put it on the back burner until Monday. But no later than that. I don’t want this to_ become _a major issue._

That didn’t sit well with me. If there was a problem with the network, even one I didn’t understand, Pritchard would be here to look into it.

“Frank! What the hell are you trying to-”

I looked up as a short, dark-haired woman burst into Pritchard’s office. She stopped short seeing me. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one looking for the Chief of Cyber Security.

“Oh… sorry, I was looking for Frank. You must be… uh… security guy!” she said, with a snap of her fingers. She had her hair cut at her chin, and it seemed like it flared out around her head. Her eyes were dark, and sported light bags. I raised a brow.

“And you are?” I asked. The woman blinked.

“Huh. Frank said you were a pain in the ass. Thought he would have mentioned the sexy voice,” she said, walking right in and half setting/half dropping a stack of papers on the couch. She marched right up to the desk and held out her hand. “Then again, I guess Frank wouldn’t really notice that. Shauna Sullivan.”

“Adam Jensen,” I said, looking at my hand and glancing at Shauna’s. I debated a moment too long, and she retracted it. 

“Think I like ‘security guy’ better,” she said, coming around the desk. She raised a brow. “Though an odd one that hacks his coworkers computers.”

“Penetration testing,” I said automatically. It had become a recurring argument with Pritchard, and that reason seemed to be the only acceptable one.

“Riiight,” Sullivan said. “So, guessing you haven’t heard from Frank either?”

“... what is it you do, Ms. Sullivan?” I asked. She put her hands on her hips. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows, revealing her tattoo sleeves of butterflies.

“Shauna or just Sullivan. I’m basically the night version of Frank,” she said. “Which I kind of hoped the security guy would know. But you can ask Haas if you don’t believe me. You wouldn’t believe how many people don’t believe I work here.”

I arched a brow. Between the tats, the earrings up the side of her left ear, and the dark eyeshadow and black lipstick, it really wasn’t that difficult to believe. In fact, I was pretty sure most of those things were against the company’s dress code. This Sullivan probably got away with it because she worked at night.

“I’ll take it into consideration,” I said, and Sullivan yawned. 

“You do that,” she said. “But, I’ve been up since about 6pm, so if you don’t mind, find Frank first. I’d like to give him a piece of my mind.”

“Is Pritchard usually on time?” I asked. Sullivan scoffed, leaning on the desk.

“He’s usually a couple hours early,” she said. “Otherwise, he calls to let me know when he’ll be in.”

“But he’s never missed a day?” I pressed. Sullivan arched a brow.

“He’s like the Pony Express. Not rain nor hail nor sleet nor riot nor ‘security guy’ will keep that man from his job,” she said. She looked around, the grabbed a stack of post-its. “Listen, Frank told me to never give this number to anyone, but I’m not very good at listening, so here.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking the offered sticky note. I stood up, and Sullivan immediately filled the chair in my absence. She seemed to be falling asleep, but I could see she was watching me, as well. 

“Fair warning, I’ve already tried it like five times,” she said. I ignored her and dialed through my infolink. After several failed connections, Pritchard picked up.

“Listen, Shauna, I’m sorry I didn’t call-”

“Pritchard,” I said, to clear up the confusion. There was a pause.

“Yes, look, I know I said I’d let you know if I’d be in late, and I understand you’ve been working all night,” the tech continued as if I hadn’t spoken. I glanced at Sullivan. She couldn’t hear the conversation, but something in my look despite the shades had her up and typing. 

“I understand, just tell me what you can,” I said, walking behind the woman. She was pulling up the employee GPL database. Smart.

“Listen, I’ll be honest,” Pritchard went on for his audience. “I ran into some old friends and went out for some drinks. I have a massive hangover, so just cover for me, alright? I’ve covered for you enough times.”

“It’s not coming up,” Sullivan said, though I could already tell from the screen that she couldn’t trace Pritchard’s GPL. A jammer? I tried to be more concerned than excited at the prospect of Pritchard somehow being kidnapped. To be honest, I didn’t really succeed.

“You know where the keys to the server room are, and for God’s sake don’t let that rodent in my office!” Pritchard went on. 

“Really hoping you’re telling me something useful here, Francis,” I said. I could hear the small noise of frustration on the other end. _Of course I’m giving you something useful, Jensen,_ it seemed to say. _I just hope you’re competent enough to figure it out._

“Oh, and one more thing,” the tech said instead. “Make sure Jensen does his damn job.”

“I’ll see he gets the message,” I said. Pritchard said something else as a dismissal, and cut the connection. I looked down at Sullivan. “He mentioned something about keys.”

“Something something ‘where our kleptomaniac security manager won’t find them’,” the woman said, leaning down and pulling up a floor panel. She tossed the set of keys up lightly and I caught them. She seemed preoccupied now, doing something on the computer.

“He also said something about not letting a rodent in his office,” I said. Sullivan chuckled.

“Yeah, that one was actually for me,” she said. I thought about asking, then decided against it. Instead, I called Sarif. 

“Boss?” I asked, when Athene put me through.

“What is it, Adam?” David asked. He sounded chipper as usual.

“I think we might have a problem,” I said. “Pritchard hasn’t shown up to work today. I think something might have happened to him.”

“What makes you say that?” Sarif asked. His voice had gained that calculating undertone that meant he was taking this seriously.

“Managed to call him, but the phone call was off,” I said. Suddenly, a marker popped up on my HUD. I glanced at Sullivan.

“Frank’s address,” she said. “At least, the one on file.”

“Adam,” David said, “Are you sure you’re not overreacting here?”

I ground my teeth. He’d dismissed my concern. He probably knew how much I wanted something like this to happen. I’d have to be careful now.

“Maybe, but I’m going to look into it to make sure,” I said. 

“Well, do what you think you have to,” the boss said. _He’s patronizing me._ “But don’t take too long. If it’s nothing, I don’t need my security manager chasing ghosts.”

“Got it, Boss,” I said, ending the connection. 

“Vibration detection augs don’t sound half as annoying as watching someone use them is,” Sullivan said. “It’s worse than only hearing half a phone call.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” I said.

 

“No you won’t,” Sullivan said. “Now get moving. I’ll play Frank and give you any tech support you need from here.”

“Thanks,” I said, a little wary. Sullivan looked up at me.

“Just get him back,” she said. I blinked. I didn’t really think Frank had friends. Ever. But Sullivan looked serious. I nodded.

“I will,” I said, and left.

## Frank Pritchard’s House 14:23:34

Pritchard’s address turned out to be a large house a couple hours outside the city. I looked it over. _Didn’t think of Pritchard as the Victorian architecture, or house at all, type…_

I walked up to the front door and pulled out the keys from the office. It took a couple tries to figure out which one was to the house. The door was still locked, with no signs of forced entry. I looked around. It was a reception area, a table with a bouquet in the middle. _Is this really Pritchard’s house?_ I closed and locked the door behind me. I scanned the house, and used my augs to see through the walls. There was one person further in. I moved quietly through the halls, coming to a kitchen. I peered around the corner, then stared in disbelief.

“Arie van Bruggen,” I said. The man jumped and turned around to face me.

“Hey, Sarif-man,” he said. I walked into the room. “Have to say, I wasn’t expecting to ever see you again.”

“What are you doing here, Arie?” I asked. Van Bruggen held up his hands. 

“Whoa, whoa, Enes said it was cool, man,” he said. I crossed my arms. 

“Enes?” I asked. 

“Yeah, Nucl3arsnake. Ah. Frank, I mean,” he said. “I needed to lay low, and I… persuaded Enes to let me.”

“Persuaded?” I asked. Arie made a face.

“Alright, maybe persuaded is the wrong word,” he said. “We… compromised. Enes gave me a place to lay low, and I didn’t share some files about him I found.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is extortion,” I said. “And you’ve got five minutes to tell me why I shouldn’t get you arrested for it.”

“Whoa, whoa, Sarif-man,” Arie said. “It’s not like Enes even lives here. He just comes during the weekend and holes up in his study, then leaves. I’m usually here alone, though I don’t know why a man with a house like this wouldn’t use it.”

“Lucky for you, that information’s useful,” I said, uncrossing my arms. “But if you’re still here by the time I get out of that study, I’m going to ‘persuade’ you out the door personally.”

“Alright, alright, I got it,” Arie said. The threat was mostly empty. I didn’t plan on coming back, so he could just go on blackmailing Pritchard after I left. _Why didn’t he come to me about it? What files were that important to him?_

The study looked even less like somewhere Pritchard worked compared to the house. There was a prominent antique wooden desk in the middle of the room, and an old-fashioned globe in another corner. Paper books filled the shelves behind, all hardbacks that gave off a musty smell. The carpet was a dark green shag, and a bear pelt was on the floor. There was even a fireplace with an ornate wooden mantle. About the only modern thing in the room was the computer, and even that was old. I sat in the plush leather chair, and booted up the box. The chassis was old, but the program on it was not. It took me a good five minutes to hack into it.

“Do you always hack any computer in the room? Because, if so, I’m glad you’ve never found the basement,” Sullivan chimed in through the infolink. I ignored her, scanning the emails.

_Frank,_

_I’m telling you, it’s like she’s disappeared off the grid. I mean, the foster care records were dodgy to begin with, but you know how Abandoned works. Any record that did exist is gone now. Plus, she was a junky. I can’t even say for certain she hasn’t just ODed in some back alley._

That was interesting. I read more.

_Carson,_

_Yes, I do know how Abandoned works, as you like to point out on a regular basis. She isn’t dead. If she were, you’d know. I’m paying you to find her, but I can just as easily find someone more competent, so either do your job or I’ll make you wish you had._

Threats from Pritchard? Exactly who was he trying to find? I scanned the other emails, but none revealed the mysterious woman Pritchard was looking for, or what Abandoned was. I started looking through other files, finding a folder labeled ‘Carson’. Curious, I opened it.

“If you find any embarrassing baby pictures, email them to me,” Sullivan said. I fought the urge to sigh. She certainly liked to talk. 

“You know, you could do something more productive, like-”

“Find out what files windmill took?” Sullivan asked. “Working on it. And looking up this Carson guy. Would help if I knew if it was a first or last name. Still no signal from Frank’s GPL.”

I didn’t say anything, pausing at the pictures. One was of a younger Frank, smiling with a girl around his age. It looked a bit crumpled, like a picture that had been scanned in. They looked similar, like siblings. 

“Sullivan, does Pritchard have any siblings?” 

“Let me check… no, none on file,” she said. I drummed my fingers on the desk. I sent the picture to my email at work, just as an elderly Asian woman came in the door.

“Oh, excuse me,” she said, and I logged out of the computer. “I didn’t know Mister Adams had another guest.”

“Mr. Adams?” I asked. The woman put a hand to her mouth in surprise.

“Oh, excuse me,” she said. “I mean Mr. Pritchard. I forgot that he finally changed his name.”

“Why would he do that, Mrs…?” I asked, standing. The woman waved her hand.

“Miss Siu,” she said. “And I don’t know if I should tell you, it’s rather personal. Ah, Mister…?”

“Jensen,” I said. “I’m Pritchard’s… coworker. He didn’t show up for work today, and I’m trying to find out why.”

“Well, did you check his apartment in the city?” Miss Siu asked. “That’s where Mister Adams usually stays.”

“Found it,” Sullivan said, the address popping up. 

“No, I didn’t know he had one,” I said. “I’ll try there next.”

“Is Mister Adams alright, Mister Jensen?” Miss Siu asked. I paused. “I mean, I’m just the cleaning lady, but I do worry. He was always in and out of trouble, when Master Pritchard was adopting him…”

“He was adopted?” I asked. 

“Looking,” Sullivan said. Meanwhile, Miss Siu let out a little gasp.

“Oh, excuse me,” she said. “I didn’t mean to mention it.”

“It’s alright,” I said, walking around the desk. “I’ll be checking out Pritchard’s apartment. I’ll let you know if anything is wrong, Miss Siu.”

“Oh, thank you, Mister Jensen,” the woman said. “You’re a good boy.”

“...thanks,” I said, leaving the room.

“If it helps, I could get you some doggie treats,” Sullivan said. 

“Very funny,” I said. “Did you find the adoption records?”

“I’m working on it, I- huh,” she said. “Well then.”

“What?” I asked. 

“The files Arie van Bruggen got? They were the adoption records. Someone went to a lot of trouble to bury these, security guy,” Sullivan said. 

“Keep digging,” I said. “I’m heading to Pritchard’s apartment.”

“Got it,” Sullivan said.

## Frank Pritchard’s Apartment 16:47:03

Pritchard’s apartment was in a slightly less run down building than some, but not as good as the Chiron building. I looked around. There was a small parking garage across the street. I went in, looking around.

“To your left,” Sullivan said, and my HUD highlighted the bike. I walked up to it, looking it over. It was a similar model to the one in Pritchard’s office. That it was still here could mean anything at this point. I glanced up and noticed the security camera. It had been shot, and hung uselessly. “That’s not comforting.”

“No, it isn’t,” I said. I left the parking garage and jogged into the building. There was someone at the front desk, and a security guard nearby. I walked right through to the elevator without a single word. _That’s not very comforting, either._

Pritchard lived on the fifth floor. His apartment was in the middle of the hall. I scanned for anyone inside, but found no one. I looked at the security panel. It was broken. I tried the door, and it opened.

Sullivan let out a whistle as I walked inside. The apartment had been trashed. Furniture was cut open and game consoles had been smashed. I walked through, looking for anything useful. The computer was in no better shape than the rest of the place. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the wall next to the computer was slightly whiter than the rest. I tapped against it, the went to the other wall and tapped again. The whiter wall was hollow. 

“Jesus, security guy!” Sullivan said as I punched through the hollow wall. _Pritchard and van Bruggen are more alike than they probably think…_ I poked my head in. There was a small monitoring system, and a screen showing white noise. The other screens showed images of the lobby and hallway. _Didn’t know Pritchard was paranoid enough to hack the security feed…_

I logged in, sending the recorded files for the weekend to a thumb drive that happened to be in the room.

“Go home and get some sleep, Sullivan,” I said, pocketing the drive and stepping out of the hidden room. “Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”


	2. Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen learns that Pritchard has some shady friends.

## Adam Jensen’s Office 07:30:23

I watched the footage again. It was of the parking garage. Pritchard rides in on his bike, parking a few feet away. He gets his helmet off, and ties his hair back up. That’s when it happens.

A man in a dark hoodie walks up to him, one sleeve rolled up to show an augmented arm. He’s twitchy, nervous. He calls out. Pritchard knows him, at least, he reacts like he does. He’s comfortable. They talk. Pritchard is concerned, and the augmented man makes a motion as if to go somewhere. The man becomes more insistent, grabbing Pritchard’s arm. When the tech recoils, the man becomes apologetic. Then Pritchard whirls around in surprise, as if someone spoke, and the camera goes dead. 

It wasn’t a lot to go on, but it certainly made a strong case for kidnapping. 

“Knock knock,” Sullivan said, waltzing in the room. 

“Did you-”

“I hacked the door console. Coffee?” she asked, offering me a cup. She had her own, and by the smell, they were both black. I accepted dubiously.

“Why did you-”

“Pen testing,” Sullivan said. “What’ve we got?”

I tasted the coffee. It was black, and it did help warm me up. But I was already stimulated enough by the case to stay awake. The bags under Sullivan’s eyes were a little more pronounced.

“Did you even go home?” I asked. Sullivan ignored me. She had walked around my desk, and hit the playback on the footage. She watched with rapt attention, nursing her coffee. When she’d watched through, she played it again, then paused and took a capture of the augmented man’s face. She emailed it to Pritchard.

“I’m gonna see what I can find on this guy,” she said, walking around. “I’ll let you know what I get. If you haven’t read it yet, I emailed you what I already have. I’ll be in Frank’s office if you need me.”

And with that she was gone. I looked after her a minute, then shook my head. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know where Sarif found her. Then I turned to my emails. There was the adoption record.

_Name: Francis Adams_  
Born: September 20 1991  
Hair: Brown  
Eyes: Blue  
Gender: Male 

I skipped to the adopter.

_Name: Tobias Pritchard_  
Born: June 27 1954  
Hair: Blond  
Eyes: Brown  
Gender: Male 

“Adam.”

I looked up at Sarif walking into my office. I had asked Athene to let me know when he got it, but I guess he decided to come see me.

“Boss.”

“Find out anything about Frank?” he asked. “Or was it just a sick day?”

Mutely, I played the security footage on the TV screen. Sarif watched it, then sighed. His augmented fingers twitched; I’m sure he wished he had a baseball.

“This isn’t good, Adam,” he said. “When did this happen?”

“Friday night,” I said. “I have someone looking into the guy in the hoodie.”

“Well, they better be good,” Sarif said. “I want this resolved, son. The last thing this company needs is another disaster.”

“I’ll take care of it, boss,” I said. Sarif nodded, then sighed and scratched his head.

“How did this even happen? I mean, if someone went after you I’d understand, but Frank?” 

“Check your inbox, security guy,” Sullivan said. “Might help with the boss man.”

I looked down and skimmed the email.

“The guy’s name is Robert Carmichael,” I said. “He’s a known drug addict and dealer. I’ve got an address for him in Brooklyn Court.”

“Good,” Sarif said. “Find out where my Chief of Cyber Security is, and why they took him.”

“I’ll keep you posted, boss,” I said. 

“You’re such a good little puppy, security guy,” Sullivan said. “I would have never guessed.”

“Sullivan, if you don’t stop comparing me to a dog, I just might maul you,” I said over the infolink.

“Only if you get on your knees and beg,” Sullivan said sweetly.

Pritchard did it better.

“You do that,” Sarif said, walking out of my office.

## Abandoned Tenement, Brooklyn Court 09:03:41

I looked around the building. Seemed it was taken up by a crew of bangers, but it wasn’t Ballers. These guys weren’t flashy. Some of them had augments, others didn’t. But they were alert, and well organized. I leaned against a nearby building casually, listening to the front door guards talk.

“You really think we’re gonna get a lot done in Detroit?” one asked. “I mean, I know Dick is our top guy for numbers, but this… this ain’t our usual Home.”

“Hey, once Tonio gets here, he’ll find our Home,” the other said. “This is just a base for Dick to get things started.”

“Yeah, but those D-Row Ballers don’t like us so close to their territory, man,” the first said. 

“Tonio’ll take care of it,” the second replied. “This is your first time on recruitment, you ain’t seen how Tonio does it.”

I decided it was time to interrupt. I walked up casually. The guards tracked me immediately. I gambled.

“I’m here to talk to Dick,” I said. One looked at the other.

“You got an appointment?” he asked. I looked at him.

“Didn’t know I needed one,” I said. The second leaned back against the wall.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but we ain’t just some group of bangers,” he said. “We’re a Family. And we don’t let just anyone in the Family.”

“Yeah, what he said,” the first guy said. I considered taking them out, but things would go smoother if I could talk my way in.

“So how do I get an appointment?” I asked. The second one looked me over.

“You ever been abandoned, brother?” he asked. I considered the question. Abandoned wasn’t really the right word; betrayed, given up, used… I decided to bluff.

“We’ve all been abandoned by someone,” I said. The second one nodded.

“Yeah, that’s the truth,” he said. “But tell me, cuz, who’ve you been abandoned by?”

“My parents,” I said, before I had time to think about it. Megan… 

“You don’t look it,” the first one said, fingering his gun’s trigger. The second one gave me a hard look.

“I try not to think about it,” I said, throwing in some pheromones for good measure. The nervous one was an Omega, but the other was a Beta, and he seemed to be in charge, so I targeted him.

“Second floor, room with the wall blown out,” he said, pointing up. I could see the open room from here. 

“Thanks,” I said, and the banger grunted. The nervous one watched me as I walked in, but I doubted he could see through the door. I walked like I belonged there, but I still stood out. My clothes and augs were too nice not to. At least this time I didn’t need to crawl through vents to get by.

I found the room without much trouble. I looked through the wall before entering. There were two people in the room. Probably Dick and his muscle. I walked in. 

Robert Carmichael sat in a folding chair, dropping a needle on the floor and covering his non-augmented arm as I entered. He looked up. He had augmented eyes, but he couldn’t seem to focus anywhere. He kept glancing around, and twitching. He hadn’t been nervous when he’d helped kidnap Pritchard. He’d been zoned.

“Oh, the irony,” Sullivan said. “Looks like he’s on the Leash.”

The Leash was a relatively new drug on the market, some kind of stimulant. It was popular with people with augments for some reason. It was called the Leash because it was so addictive. That, and for some reason it caused people to imprint on the first person they saw on the drug. So Leash dealers, usually the first ones a user saw, were called Handlers. Users were called Dobermans, or just Dobers. It looked like Dick was both.

“Welcome, brother,” Dick said. His voice was surprisingly calm and steady, a large contrast with his nervous body language. “What brings you to the Family?”

“The Family?” I asked. I eyed Dick’s muscle. The man had augmented arms and legs. He eyed me coldly. I’d have to move fast.

“That’s what we are,” Dick said, standing. “We were once Abandoned. So we joined together to become the Family. Others may still call us Abandoned, but it’s a badge of honor. Our past scars are only open until we knit them together.”

“Please tell me you aren’t going to let him monologue on this,” Sullivan said. 

“Tell me more about the Family,” I said, crossing my arms. I needed the muscle to let his guard down. Plus, I might be able to get Sullivan to stop calling me a dog.

“We were started by Tonio, our First Brother,” he said. “He takes care of us, takes care of the Family. He realized that the Abandoned needed to come together, and showed them what it means to be family. No longer the riff raff of the streets, the cast offs of society; we belong, we’re all important in the Family.”

“But some are more important than others, right?” I asked. “Like Tonio?”

“That’s First Brother to you, outsider,” the muscle said. 

“It’s ok, Vick,” Dick said. “Can’t you tell? He’s been Abandoned, too.”

“It’s the lost puppy look,” Sullivan said. I ignored her.

“What makes you say that?” I asked. Dick laughed, a breathless, nervous titter.

“It’s a gift,” he said. “Besides, you’re here, aren’t you?”

“Could be a spy,” Vick said, moving to loom over me. I took the opportunity to knock him out, since he was so kind as to provide.

“Francis Adams,” I said, on instinct. “Ring a bell?”

Dick flinched. Suddenly, his twitching kicked into overdrive, and he inched towards a desk. It was hard to tell if he were going for another needle or the communication unit.

“F-Frankie? He… he ain’t part of the crew anymore,” he said. His voice was no longer the smooth, educated tone from before. I stepped over his fallen muscle.

“Really?” I asked. Dick tried to inch more to the table, but I grabbed him by his hoodie and picked him up. “Because I have a video of you and ‘Frankie’ talking a couple of days ago, and now he’s missing.”

“You try callin’ him?” Dick asked. “I ain’t heard from him in like… twenty years, man. I don’t think I can help you.”

I tossed Dick at his chair. It fell over, and I grabbed a needle with Leash in it. I walked over to the Dober and held up the needle. He sat up a little, but stayed on the ground.

“Tell me about ‘Frankie’,” I said. “Or I might just do something with this needle you won’t like.”

Dick swallowed, then wet his lips.

“He-hey man, no need to get crazy,” he said. “I… I just forgot. I-I did see Frankie a couple of days ago, invited him out for a drink. But he said no. That’s it, man.”

I squirted half the needle’s contents on the floor, and Dick made a lunge for it. I put him back down with a knee to the face, then pulled him up close by his hoodie. I held the needle in front of his face.

“Should I stop watching? I feel kind of voyeur-ish,” Sullivan piped up. 

“I really don’t want to know how you made this sexual,” I said to her via the infolink. Then I turned my attention back to Dick. “Focus, Carmichael. You ‘ran into’ Frankie. What next?”

“It… it was T-Tonio,” Dick said. “S-said… said we couldn’t pull it off without the original crew. So we needed Frankie. But Frankie’d been gone a long time, see, so Tonio told me to go to Detroit and find out about him. Then Tonio came up and told me to try and get Frankie outta his parking garage so he could convince him to come back.”

“Did Tonio shock the security camera?” I asked. Dick nodded.

“Yeah, then he grabbed Frankie when he wouldn’t come,” he said. 

“Oh, Dick,” a deep woman’s voice said. I looked up to see a grenade launcher pointed at me. “I should have never given you the Leash.”

I attempted to jump before the grenade went off, but still caught some of the blast. It wasn’t quite high enough for my Icarus landing system to kick in, and I landed hard. I had no idea how Dick fared, but apparently his Handler wasn’t afraid to loose him. I stumbled away from the area, not wanted to get caught by anymore of ‘the Family’.

“So looks like Frank was in a gang,” Sullivan said, nonchalant. I coughed to clear my throat.

“Looks that way,” I said. “Find anything about these Abandoned guys? Or Tonio?”

“Antonio Vasquez,” Sullivan answered. “Has a rap sheet for assault, assault and battery, larceny, grand larceny, larceny and assault, attempted assault-”

“He’s violent, I get it,” I said. 

“Well, he’s also the one that allegedly invented Leash,” Sullivan continued. “And he did found ‘Abandoned’. That’s what the police call the gang, anyways. And it looks like they’re based in… Texas.”

“Wonderful,” I said. I called Sarif, and Athene patched me through.

“Tell me you’ve got some good news, Adam,” he said.

“I need to go to Texas,” I said. 

“Texas?” Sarif asked.”Why Texas? Adam, there’s nothing in Texas…”

“Looks like Pritchard might have been mixed up with a gang as a kid, and they decided to call him back,” I said.

“That’s not good news, Adam,” Sarif said, then sighed. “You’ll leave tomorrow. Malik is off on another task, and I hear you were in an explosion?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, boss,” I said.

“Well, keep me posted,” Sarif said, signing off. It started to rain, and I sighed. 

“Sullivan?” 

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna head home. Keep digging. And try to get some sleep,” I said.

“No promises,” the woman replied.


	3. Day Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen is starting to figure out that Frank's life kind of sucks.

## Adam Jensen’s Apartment 02:56:01

I sat up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. The Icarus dream. Again. I sighed, getting up and walking into the bathroom. Looked like I wouldn’t be getting any more sleep tonight. I splashed some water on my face, grabbing a towel to dry it. I stopped, catching my eyes in the mirror. I slowly put the towel down, and forced myself to stare.

Yellow-green eyes. _Augmented_ eyes. The pieces of carbon polymer that held my shades. The more dramatic changes start at my shoulders, where the bolts that hold the other augments in place litter my collarbone and my augmented arms begin. I clutch the edge of the sink. _This_ is what I am now. Not Icarus, but Frankenstein. A patchwork abomination. All because of my DNA.

The counter bent under my hands. I looked down, and let go. I sighed, scratching the back of my head. How was I going to explain that to my landlady? She barely even replaced the mirror…

I left the bathroom, and went to the kitchen. I poured myself a bowl of Crunchy Pirate, and took it over to my computer. With nothing better to do, I searched the internet for Tobias Pritchard.

A lot of news articles popped up, and I clicked the first one.

> The King is Dead!  
>  Amy Undervulle, January 2010
> 
> For years the notorious leader of the English Mafia in Detroit, Tobias Pritchard, lorded over the citizenry with malicious threats and harsh “enforcement”, but no more!
> 
> Yesterday morning, Pritchard was found shot in his own study by his adopted son, Francis Adams. The boy was unhurt, but seemed shaken. The Detroit PD have labeled it a suicide, but sources seemed convinced it was a hit by one of the other crime families. In either case, no one seems eager to get involved.
> 
> Pritchard was a smooth operator. Never formally charged or arrested, he’s been suspected of everything from fraud to murder. He was also allegedly working with the Chinese Mafia, but claims could not be confirmed. He had a large fortune, which he claimed to be an inheritance, which has passed on to his adopted son. When we attempted to interview Francis about his father, his response was a resounding “no comment”. 
> 
> Now the question on everyone’s minds is what the King’s heir intends to do next. Will he take up his father’s throne, or break away from the criminal life? Only time will tell.

A Mafia boss? That didn’t bode well. I skimmed through some of the other articles, but most were just about Tobias Pritchard’s elusiveness. There was another that made me pause.

> A Prince, or a Slave?  
> Charlie Hethers, February 2007
> 
> It seems the King has gotten sentimental in his old age. Sources say he has adopted a teenage boy named Francis Adams, from Texas. But no one seems quite sure as to why.
> 
> Some think it might be that the King needs an heir. It;s no secrete that his estranged wife, Gabriella Estelle, gave him two daughters, but Tobias Pritchard is an old fashioned man. It would make sense that he’d want his heir to be male, but why choose someone so far from his own kingdom?
> 
> Others think the King might have gotten a taste for something else. But we all know he’s no saint, or even a priest, for that matter, and sixteen is a little old for an altar boy. 
> 
> There have been a few unconfirmed reports that the boy is an accomplished hacker. Perhaps the King is just acquiring a new tool for his arsenal. But the question remains; is this new addition a prince, or another slave?  
> 

I skimmed a couple more articles. Similar speculations at the times of Pritchard’s adoption and Tobias’s death, but after that, the hacker seems to drop off the map. I sat back. _What exactly happened in your past, Francis?_

“Jensen?” 

“Pritchard?” I asked, mildly surprised by the timing.

“Listen, I don’t have a lot of time,” the man said. He was talking softly, and sounded… irritated. “They have hacker that’s hovering over my shoulder nearly all the time, and she just stepped out.”

“Pritchard, where are you?” I asked, sitting up. “We can’t track your GPL.”

“That’s because they have a signal jammer, but I sincerely hope you already figured that out on your own,” he replied. “I’m in San Antonio, Texas. I-”

“Is this related to the British Mafia?” I asked. Pritchard went silent. Then he sighed.

“I suppose it was bound to come up… no, I cut ties with them after Tobias died,” he said. “This is all-”

“Abandoned,” I said. 

“Exactly,” Pritchard said, sounding surprised.

“I had a talk with Dick Carmichael,” I said. “And got shot by a woman with a grenade launcher.”

“That would be Serene. She’s- I have to go,” Pritchard said, and cut the connection. I waited, to see if he would call again, but eventually leaned back in my chair. I would have expected… fear. Nerves. Anyone else in Pritchard’s situation would be feeling those emotions. But the tech was only… irritated. I glanced at the articles again. If he really had been adopted by a Mafia boss, it wouldn’t be such a surprise if he’d been kidnapped before. And apparently having run with a gang even before that…

_These would have been good things to include in his employee record…_ I sighed. It wouldn’t help to think of that now. It wasn’t like my own adoption record… I paused. 

Sarif knew I was adopted. He said he had a private investigator look into all his employee records. And I had been a risk. Pritchard, with his history? There was no way he hadn’t had _him_ investigated as well. I ground my teeth. If Sarif had known all of this before, and didn’t tell me, _again_ …

It wouldn’t matter. _I_ kept working for Sarif industries. I could have left and found something else, but I didn’t. I sighed. Sooner or later, I was going to have to accept that Sarif wasn’t going to stop lying to me. Instead, I sent an email to Brent Radford, asking what, if anything, he’d dug up on Francis Adams. I knew I wouldn’t get a response right away, if any, but it would be easier than confronting Sarif.

I logged off, then went back into the bathroom. I looked down at my handiwork with the counter, then up at the mirror. With a brief frown, I moved on to take a shower.

## Sarif Industries 08:57:40

“Alright, Spy Boy, I’ve finished all my checks,” Malik said, coming around the VTOL. “You can stop looming over my shoulder.”

“Spy Boy?” Sullivan asked. I could practically hear the arched brow.

“Sorry,” I said to Malik. Faridah smile wryly.

“To be honest, I’m surprised you’re so anxious,” she said. “I thought you didn’t like Frank.”

“I don’t,” I said. Malik put a hand on her hip and raised a brow.

“Oh really?” she asked. “Then why _are_ you so eager to get going?”

“I…” I started, but stopped. Talking to Malik was one thing; we’d been through a lot. But with Sullivan listening in…

“What? Is something wrong?” Malik asked. I considered.

“There’s a woman monitoring my Infolink in place of Frank,” I said. Malik looked confused a minute, then smiled and nodded.

“Shauna,” she said. “Give us a minute, would you?”

“Rodger dodger,” Sullivan said, and I heard the connection end. I raised a brow at Malik.

“You know each other?” I asked. Malik laughed.

“Yeah, she’s a character,” she said. “Did she cut the connection?”

“She did,” I said. “You’ll have to teach me how to do that some time.”

“Did you try asking?” Malik asked. “She talks when she’s nervous, Jensen. And I imagine trying to step into Frank’s shoes has her all kinds of jittery.”

“Why?” I asked. Malik raised both brows this time.

“Um, because she’s heard Frank’s stories about you?” she said. “And mine. And probably that Haas guy, too. And just about anyone _else_ that’s worked with you. You’re kind of intimidating, Spy Boy.”

“Intimidating?” I asked. Malik rolled her eyes.

“Ok, it’s not like she’s afraid of you,” she said. “She just doesn’t want to mess up. And, let’s be honest, with what you do, there’s not a lot of room for error.”

“I see your point,” I said. 

“Good. Now, are you going to tell me what has _you_ so jittery?” Malik asked. I crossed my arms.

“It’s good to be back in the field,” I said. 

“That’s it?” Malik asked. “ _That’s_ what you couldn’t say in front of Sullivan.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t really talk about my feelings,” I said, maybe a little too harshly. 

“I know,” Malik said, surprising me. Her tone was softer. She tentatively put a hand on my forearm. “And thanks, for trusting me.”

“You have my back, Fly Girl,” I said. “So I have yours.”

“I know, Spy Boy,” Malik said again, this time teasing. “Just don’t forget I’m not the only one that has your back, alright?”

The pilot turned away, getting into the cockpit. I stared after her a moment, then climbed in the back. I called Sullivan via Infolink.

“Sullivan.”

“Yeah, security guy?” she asked. I could hear her typing, and I thought a moment before speaking.

“You’re doing a good job,” I said. I didn’t think it would do much good, but then there was a pause.

“Thanks, Adam,” Sullivan said. Then she went on. “Sorry, do you prefer Jensen? Mr. Jensen?”

“‘Security guy’ works fine,” I said. Sullivan chuckled.

“Maybe you just like nicknames, ‘Spy Boy’,” she said. “But, personally, I think security guy is better. And you can tell Faridah I said that.” 

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

## San Antonio, Texas 13:46:09

Malik dropped me at a building near the San Antonio PD, and Sullivan put the address on my HUD. I walked there, getting a feel for the city. Things were surprisingly calm, given a disorganized Mafia was supposedly in the area. People seemed… happy. No, not happy, but… relieved. Interesting. I entered the Police Department, and walked up to the officer at the front desk.

“I’m looking for some records,” I said. The woman rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, who for?” she asked. 

“Antonio Vasquez,” I said, The woman paused. Then she gave a short, incredulous laugh.

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked. I didn’t say anything. He smile fell. “Oh. Well, You’ll have to talk to Sergeant Willis. He’s in the office in the far back.”

“Thanks,” I said, moving past her. The Office was like any other Police Department; over worked officers listening to complaints of all kinds and gathering statements from belligerents and petty criminals. I headed straight for the office in the back. The door was open, so I walked in.

“Can I help you, boy?” The man behind the desk, a big man with a Southern drawl, asked. 

“I’m looking for some records on Antonio Vasquez,” I said. The Sergeant barked out a laugh.

“Yeah, what for?” he asked. I crossed my arms.

“He’s kidnapped one of my colleagues,” I said. “I’d like to get as much information on him as possible.”

“You wanna go after Tonio and his boys?” Willis asked. He shook his head. “Take my advice, son; don’t. I don’t know who this ‘colleague’ of yours is, but he ain’t worth getting mixed up with them boys.”

“I can handle it, Sergeant,” I said. The man suddenly grew serious. My CASIE mod flared up.

“Now listen, boy,” he said. “You go into that ‘Home’ of theirs, you ain’t coming back. Now, you seem like a decent sort, but I can tell you ain’t from around these parts. Nobody bothers Tonio and his boys, not anymore. Now, you just go on back where you came from, and maybe things’ll turn out alright.”

The man was an Alpha. Confident, Assertive and Pragmatic. He really does want to do the right thing, but he cuts corners. I needed to make him believe the only way I’d back down was by seeing what I was up against. Or being deterred.

“I appreciate your concern, Sergeant,” I said, “But my friend used to be mixed up with Tonio, and I just want to talk him out of going back.”

“Shoot, son, if he’s already with Tonio, it’s too late for that,” Willis said.

“But Tonio had to kidnap him to do it. If I could just convince him that it won’t work…”

“You want to convince _Tonio_?” Willis asked, laughing again. “Boy, I don’t think you’re hearing me. Tonio doesn’t play by the rules, if he wants something, he takes it.”

“Listen, Sergeant,” I said, trying to sound less than demanding. “I just want to see what I’m getting myself into. I don’t really know much about Tonio, or his crew, but I’m sure there’s some way to reason with them.”

“Boy,” Willis said, shaking his head, “There ain’t no reasoning with them crazy bangers. But I’ll show you the records, just so you can see for yourself they’re all as crazy as loons.”

“Nicely done,” Sullivan said as Willis left the room. He brought back a couple of fat files, and dropped them on the desk. 

“That’s Tonio and his original crew from when he was a teenager. They’re all his gang leaders now.I’m gonna take a lunch break, you just leave those when you go,” the Sergeant said, leaving the room. I opened the first file, scanning through it.

_Name: Antonio “Tonio” Vasquez_  
DOB: 16 July 1989  
Height: 5’10”  
Hair: Black  
Eyes: Brown 

_Sex: M_  
Race: Hispanic  
Augments: Both arms, both legs, cranial  
Markings: Scar across left eye, tattoo on collar bone reading: “We are all Abandoned” with wings made of barbed wire. 

Like Sullivan had said before, there were a lot of assault charges and theft. Then the drug charges began, and the other seemed to stop, for the most part. He did seem like a piece of work. His mug shot had him smirking at the camera. I memorized his face, then moved on to the next file.

_Name: Ellie Durmut_  
DOB: 05 December 1993  
Height: 4’11”  
Hair: Blonde  
Eyes: Grey  
Sex: F  
Race: Caucasian  
Augments: Both legs, cranial  
Markings: Broken wings tattoo on back 

Ellie’s rap sheet was more petty larceny and accessory to more violent crimes. Someone had wrote “eye-candy” in a margin, but it was crossed out. 

“Hey, security guy?” Sullivan said. 

“What is it?” I asked. 

“I’ve been looking up these names on a hunch, and, well…” she said. “Vasquez, Carmichael and Durmut were both in the foster care system. Frank too.”

“What can you tell me about them from there?” I asked.

“Well, Vasquez was but in the system when he crossed the border from Mexico at age six,” Sullivan said. “And the social worker suspected physical abuse. Carmichael’s mother OD’ed on crystal meth, and he was put in the system after that at age nine. And Durmut… well, she was sexually abused by her father and neglected by her mother, and was put in the system at ten.”

“Could that be where they all met?” I asked, moving to the next file. Carmichael.

“Looks like it,” Sullivan said. “I’ll keep digging.”

_Name: Robert “Dick” Carmichael_  
DOB: 28 August 1992  
Height: 5’9”  
Hair: Blond  
Eyes: Hazel  
Sex: M  
Race: Caucasian  
Augments: Left arm, eyes  
Markings: None 

Dick had a string of larceny and later possession and intent to sell. I moved to the next file.

_Name: Serene Bucali_  
DOB: 24 May 1995  
Height: 5’7”  
Hair: Black  
Eyes: Brown  
Sex: F  
Race: Indian  
Augments: None  
Markings: None 

This must be the one Pritchard said shot me with the grenade launcher. Her record included arson, theft and fraud.

“Parents died in a fire when she was four,” Sullivan supplied. “Bounced around her relatives until she was six.”

“Foster care?” I asked.

“Yes indeed,” Sullivan said. I moved to the next record. This one was a little thinner than the rest, and when I opened it, I paused. Looking up at me from the mug shot was a teenage version of Pritchard.

_Name: Francis “Frankie” Adams_  
DOB: 20 September 1991  
Height: 5’11”  
Hair: Brown  
Eyes: Blue  
Sex: M  
Race: Caucasian  
Augments: None  
Markings: Bicep tattoo of a snake on left arm, travels down side of back 

“Both parents died in a car crash,” Sullivan said softly. I’m sure she’d already read the record. “He was seven.”

I moved on to the next file, barely glancing at the record. Larceny, fraud, accessory. The next file also gave me pause. It was the girl from the photo.

_Name: Mathilde “Hilde” Adams_  
DOB: 20 September 1991  
Height: 5”5’  
Hair: Brown  
Eyes: Blue  
Sex: F  
Race: Caucasian  
Augments: None  
Markings: Ring of flower around right bicep, travels down side of back 

I stared. The mug shot showed a young woman with a haunted expression. It was too easy to see the resemblance between her and her brother.

“They’re twins,” Sullivan said, but I’d already guessed as much. I stared at the picture of Mathilde. This had to be the woman Pritchard was looking for. I closed the file, and stacked the others together. I got up, and walked to the front desk again.

“Where can I find Tonio?” I asked. The woman stared.Then she sighed.

“The old Dennis Moore building,” she said. A marker showed up on my HUD. I left the station mutely, following it to a large, abandoned corporate warehouse. There was a man leaning against a building across the street.

“‘Scuse me,” the man said, stepping in my path. “Heard you were at the police station asking about Abandoned.”

“And?” I asked. The man stuck out his hand.

“Bill Carson,” he said. “Private Investigator. Listen, I’ve been watching these guys-”

“You’re the guy Pritchard hired to track down his sister,” I said, and Carson flinched. He suddenly seemed nervous. 

“Y-yeah, yeah, that’s me,” he said. Something seemed off. I pulled up my CASIE mod, just in case.

“What is it you wanted to say?” I asked. 

“Oh, uh, just that you shouldn’t go messing around with Tonio and his crew,” Carson said. “They don’t like outsiders meddling with things.”

“Outsiders like you?” I asked. Carson’s heart rate jumped.

“W-well, yeah, like that,” he said. He was lying, but it was hard to tell about what. I made a guess.

“You’re part of them,” I said. Carson jumped, then laughed. But it was all the proof I needed. I picked the man up by his collar and slammed him against the building. “You son of a bitch.”

“Listen, listen, it’s not what you think!” Carson said. “Yeah, maybe I believe in a lot of what Tonio says, but that’s why Frank hired me! He knew no one else would be able to get close enough to the crew to find out what happened to Hilde! I swear!”

“You really expect me to believe that?” I asked. “Or did Tonio pay you to keep tabs on ‘Frankie’?”

“What?” Carson said, but too forcefully. “That makes no sense. I mean, come on, man, does Tonio really strike you as that intelligent?”

“I don’t know, Carson,” I said. “He went from being a foster kid to running his own mafia. You tell me.”

“Ok, ok, so Tonio’s smart. So what?” the PI asked. “I’m a PI. _Frank_ hired me to track down his sister, and to do that, I needed to gain Tonio’s trust. Don’t you see? It was the only way I _could_ find Mathilde.”

“No, I don’t see,” I said. I dropped Carson, and he fell to his knees. “Don’t contact me again, or Frank Pritchard.”

I turned, walking away. I expected a comment from Sullivan, but she was oddly silent. It was only as I was sneaking around the guards in the Dennis Moore building that she spoke up.

“Uh… back there, with Carson…” she started.

“What?” I snapped.

“That um… seemed kind of… personal,” Sullivan said. I paused. I was in a vent, so I wasn’t worried about anyone seeing me. When I stopped to think about it, I was angry. No, I was furious. _For Pritchard?_ No.That wasn’t right. Why would I be angry for Pritchard? Then again… 

Michelle Walthers popped into my head unbidden. She was the closest thing to family I had left. Sometimes I would deliver her Rolling Wheels meal, other times I would cook for her. She wasn’t really family, but she was my only link to my real parents. If she suddenly disappeared, if I lost that link like that…

“I mean it’s cool if you don’t want to talk about it,” Sullivan went on. “I just thought… I’d, ya know, point it out.”

I didn’t reply, but kept moving. I’d overheard some guards talking about the second floor being ‘the Penthouse’, so that was where I was headed. I tried to calm myself down along the way. Sullivan was right; I made it personal. I needed to cool my head before I made a mistake. I found a ladder that took me to a vent on the next floor. Only one more floor until I reached the top. Some of the guards had referred to it as ‘the Penthouse’, and said someone called Nova was holed up there. I checked the map of the building. It looked like the only way to the Penthouse was by an elevator situated in the middle of the building. An odd choice, but avoiding the guards on the way helped me put thoughts of Carson and Michelle Walthers behind me. It was time to work.

I had to hack two separate security consoles to shut off the two cameras pointed at the elevator, as well as knock out all the guards on the floor (twenty total) in order not to set off any alarms. Who thought open architecture was a good idea, anyways?

Rather than use the elevator, I climbed through the emergency exit on top. I climbed a side ladder to the top floor, but the only way through seemed to be the door. I scanned through the walls. One person on the whole floor. One of the walls was weak enough that I could probably smash my way through it… I ground my teeth. I’d have to risk it. 

“Wait, wait!” Sullivan cut in as I set up to punch through the wall. “I might be reading the map wrong, but is there an opening above you?”

I looked up. There was a vent there. I looked around, and climbed up some scaffolding to reach it.

“Good call, Sullivan,” I said, shimmying up the vent to wear it turned horizontal.

“Just trying to keep the property damage bills down,” the tech replied. I shook my head, then moved slowly closer to the one person in the room. She was talking to someone, either by phone or computer.

“... all went smoothly,” she said. I looked down through a grate almost directly above her. She was studying her nails, painted a sparkling yellow. “Yeah, tell Tonio he has nothing to worry about. Ain’t nobody sneaking in the Home while he’s away. And even if they did, they wouldn’t be sneaking out again.”

The person on the other end talked at length. Nova, or at least the woman I assumed to be Nova, played with her electric yellow hair. Looking at her, it was hard to tell what was and wasn’t augmented. She seemed to have her normal hands, but her arms were augments, and it seemed her torso was, as well. Or perhaps just her chest, because she had fleshy legs under her revealing mini skirt, and augments at the knee. Her furry yellow boots covered her feet, and her black shirt was only held together by a small metal ring in the middle of her chest. 

“Yeah, the plasma works fine,” Nova went on. I looked around the room. It appeared to be that the only furniture in the place was the desk Nova was sitting at. The woman recrossed her legs.

“The hell is with the hoochie mama?” Sullivan asked, but it seemed more an off comment than an actual question. _The hoochie mama that apparently has plasma guns._ How did they even afford those? 

More importantly, where had Tonio gone? And everyone else in his crew, for that matter. I felt like punching the wall, but refrained. Had I really come all this way for nothing?

“Ugh, I _know_ , what is _with_ Tonio’s obsession with that guy, anyways?” Nova said in quite possibly the most annoying voice I had ever heard. “I _thought_ he was into cute girls, that’s why he picked me up with Ellie getting old. I could even deal with that creepy hacker chick he keeps around. But then this old dude shows up and Tonio’s like, all over him? What the fuck?”

I perked my ears to listen. Maybe not for nothing, but it would be hard to tell how this could be relevant later. Of course, this wouldn’t be the first time I wondered that about information.

“I _kno-ow!_ ‘Frankie’ this and ‘Frankie’ that, I swear, it’s like, totally insane!” Nova went on. “I think I even heard him call the guy ‘babe’ once.”

_Pritchard? Babe?_ I almost laughed. Instead, it came out as a short choking noise. i froze, and so did Nova. She hung up her phone, and stood. She walked forward, looking around. I held my breath, and she walked past the opening in the vent. 

I scrambled back a plasma ate through the grate, then further as Nova kept shooting. She ran out of clips soon enough, and I’d made it back to the elevator shaft. As she was reloading, the alarm went off, and the elevator started rising. _Wonderful._

I dropped, using the Icarus landing system to stun the men in the elevator. As they stumbled,some hitting the wall hard enough to fall unconscious, I knocked out the couple still awake. Then, as the elevator reached the Penthouse, I turned on my invisibility.

I tucked and rolled, just in time to avoid Nova’s shot into the elevator. The woman crept forward cautiously, then whirled around crazily. It seemed her arms themselves contained the plasma guns. 

“Invisibility, huh?” she said, augmented eyes scanning every corner of the room as she turned constantly. “Can’t keep that up long, whoever you are!”

She was right. My power usage was draining my batteries. I only had a few more seconds before I’d be visible. I took the opportunity to sneak up behind the woman, risking being seen a moment too soon to run silently. _Not enough._ I cursed as my running became obvious and my invisibility ended, and Nova turned on me.

“DROP!”

Sullivan’s voice through the infolink was just startling enough that I listened without thinking, throwing myself to the ground. I expected a plasma bolt, but instead there was the sound of shattering glass and a machine gun. I looked up in time to see Nova standing, eyes wide, before collapsing forward, full of bullet holes. I looked forward, towards the window, and cautiously rose.

A tall, augmented Hispanic man wearing Dynacore armor casually took out a cigarette and lit it. He held a heavy machine gun in his left arm. He gave me a once over.

“You know,” he said, “If you hadn’t dropped like that, you’d be dead, too.”

I looked at Nova. A pool of blood was forming beneath her. I looked back at the newcomer.

“And you are?” I asked. The man levelled his gun at me.

“You first,” he said. I looked at the weapon. No way I’d get close enough to stop him from using it.

“Adam Jensen,” I said. 

“Damien Hauzer,” the man replied, but kept the weapon up. “You don’t look like Abandoned.”

“I’m not,” I replied. Damien considered, then lowered the machine gun.

“Me neither. What brings you here, then?” he asked. I considered.

“I’m looking for a friend,” I said. 

“Not a colleague?” Sullivan asked. I ignored her.

“Well, looks like we were both late to the party, then,” Hauzer said. “Who’s your friend?”

“... Francis Adams,” I said. Hauzer arched a brow.

“I thought Frankie got out,” he said. He threw his cigarette down, crushing it under his heel. “I also thought he got adopted by some British guy in Detroit.”

“Maybe he did,” I said. “But I still don’t know why _you’re_ here.”

“Fair enough,” Hauzer said, closing the distance. “I had some vacation time. Figured it’d be a good time to settle a score with Tonio.”

“So you decided to come crashing through the window with a machine gun and just mow down everyone inside?” I asked. 

“Don’t tell me you were gonna let her live,” Hauzer said. I didn’t reply. He shook his head. “Not a good policy, my friend. The living ones come back to kill you later.”

“Not always,” I said, and as I tracked Hauzer walking further into the room, I noticed something. There was a vent, but it seemed like there was something inside of it. Glancing at Hauzer as he made his way to the terminal in the room, I went over to the vent, opening it. There was a pocket secretary inside. I picked it up.

_Jensen, Tonio’s planning something big. In Detroit. Couldn’t send a message._

Short and to the point. They had to be keeping a close eye on Pritchard if this was the best he could do. 

“Detroit, huh?” Hauzer said, reading over my shoulder. I stood, and he backed off. “Guess I’ll be seeing you then, Jensen.”

“Don’t count on it,” I said, and sent coordinates for the building to Malik. 

“You’re gonna need help to go up against Tonio and his crew,” Hauzer said. “Especially if you plan on going after part of his original crew.”

“You have no idea what I need,” I said, and took the stairs to the roof. Malik was just landing the VTOL, and I walked up to get inside.

“Hey Jensen!” 

I turned as I started to step in. Hauzer stood at the door.

“You wanna get to Frankie, I don’t care. Just leave Tonio to me!”

I didn’t answer, but got into the VTOL. Hauzer watched as it took off.

“Where to, Spy Boy?” Malik asked.

“Home,” I said, leaning back in my seat. I switched to infolink. “Good call with Hauzer, Sullivan.”

“I just figured with you watching Nova, you didn’t notice the guy about to burst through the window,” the woman replied, with a yawn. I sighed.

“Sullivan, get some sleep,” I said. “I need you awake when I’m in the field.”

“You got it, security guy,” she said. “And same to you.”

I cut the connection, and rested my head on the seat back. I closed my eyes, but I didn’t sleep. There was too much to think about. 

I had a trigger-happy private security aug gunning for Tonio. Who apparently had a thing for the cyber security expert I was trying to rescue. And they were now somewhere in Detroit, and planning something big. Like what? A lot of them were augs. Maybe they were going to raid a Versalife facility to steal a large supply of Neuropozyne. Or try and steal the formula itself from Sarif Industries. That would be big. It would save them time trying to reverse engineer it, if they were trying that at all. And it would make them a large profit. It would be easier if Pritchard had said what it was Tonio was planning. Of course, if he had known, he would have said, which meant he was as in the dark as I was right now. I put in a call to Sarif.

“Boss, looks like you were right about Texas,” I said when Athene put me through. “They’ve moved shop to Detroit.”

“Why did they do that?” Sarif asked. 

“I don’t know for sure,” I said. “Pritchard managed to leave a message, saying it was something big. And I intended to find out what once I get back.”

“Keep up the good work, Adam,” Sarif said. “And let me know when you find something.”

“Will do, Boss,” I said, and cut the connection. I looked out the window, and at the scenery passing by. It seemed like the pieces hadn’t quite come together yet. _Francis, what have you gotten yourself into?_ I wanted to just about strangle the man by now.

First, the business with Arie van Bruggen. Was he really so keen on hiding his _adoption_ records that he just _let_ van Bruggen blackmail him? Did he _really_ think Sarif didn’t _know_? Or was it someone else he didn’t want to know? And what did it matter, anyways? Sarif had already hired him. After he’d been arrested for fraud. Sarif trusted him. Hell, I trusted him. And, if he had approached me, I wouldn’t have told Sarif about it without his consent, anyways. I owed him for Michelle Walthers. 

Wait, did he not trust _me_? After all the shit we’d been through? I clenched a hand, wishing I had a drink. Was he really _that_ paranoid? 

Then I thought about the security tape. Pritchard had been relaxed around Carmichael. He hadn’t shied away from him when he got close. He’d only started to realize something was wrong when Dick had grabbed his arm. But even then… even then, he hadn’t been _afraid_. That was when his expression at the end of the tape clicked. The face he’d made when he’d faced Tonio. _He’d been afraid_.

I relaxed, retracting my shades and putting a hand to my eyes. _Of course_ he didn’t trust me. Everyone in his life after his parents’ death had probably used him in some way. Yeah, Pritchard and I had been through some tough times, but we’d still only know each other a few years. That couldn’t undo years of paranoia and abuse. Even his personality, the way he kept everyone at a distance, made more sense now. I looked through my fingers outside.

With all the events leading up to Panchaea… Sarif’s lies, finding out I was adopted, Megan’s betrayal, Taggert’s involvement with the Illuminati… I didn’t think I could trust anyone, either. Except… except Pritchard and Malik. The two people that never lied to me, and went outside the line of duty to help me. I never even thought about it before now. I took it for granted. Never questioned them. Malik after helping her with her friend’s murderer, and Pritchard after Michelle Walthers. I _knew_ they had my back. And Malik knew I had hers.

Now I needed Pritchard to know I had his.

“Hey, Malik?” I said over the infolink.

“Yeah?” the pilot asked. 

“Thanks,” I said. “For being a friend.”

“Getting sentimental in your old age, Spy Boy?” Malik asked after a brief pause. I felt a smile. Barely, but it was there.

“Thirty-four isn’t old,” I said. 

“Suuure it isn’t,” Malik said, and cut the connection. I settled in my seat. Maybe getting some sleep wouldn’t be such a bad idea, after all.


	4. Day Four: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Detroit, what is Tonio planning? 
> 
> Also, Adam and Frank have a real conversation like wow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to break this chapter into two parts so I could get something out more quickly. Hope you enjoy!

## Adam Jensen’s Office 08:14:31

I took a steadying breath through my nose. The man lounging on my couch took a drag on his cigarette.

“There’s no smoking in the building,” I said. The man looked at me, then put the cigarette out. On the armrest. 

“Adam, have you found-” Sarif chose _that exact moment_ to stroll into my office. He looked between me and my… guest. He pointed. “Who’s this?”

“Damien Hauzer, of Dynacore,” I said, glaring from behind my shades. “He has a score to settle with Tonio, and figured the fastest way to find him would be to invite himself into my office.”

“Work smarter, not harder,” Damien said. He looked at my boss. The man had eyes that never showed any emotion. It was relatively disconcerting. “Mr. Sarif.”

“... right, listen, Adam,” Sarif said, turning back to me. “Have you made any progress? Learned anything new?”

“No,” I said. “It seems Tonio is laying low.”

“It won’t last,” Hauzer said. The man had moved to possibly the most inappropriate activity he could do in the office of the Security Chief of a corporation with his CEO standing in the room. He was cleaning his gun. “Tonio likes to make sure everyone knows he’s the top dog. He’ll show up.”

“With aplomb,” Sullivan said, stepping around Sarif and reaching over my desk to grab the remote and turn on the news. Eliza Cassan was in front of the scene of a large, abandoned Versalife warehouse. 

_“... coverage of a new gang in Detroit that seems to have sprung up overnight, calling themselves both Abandoned, and ‘The Family’.”_

Sullivan leaned back against my desk, watching. Sarif cupped his chin, and Hauzer kept on cleaning his gun, one eye on the newscast. I stood to get a better view. Tonio appeared on screen, cameras focusing on him. I should thank Eliza Cassan. The man held up his hands, as if for quiet, then spoke.

_“I am Tonio, First Brother of the Family! Brothers and sisters! I have come to give you the greatest gift! I have come to give you a place to belong!”_

Sure enough, he was getting a crowd. Some of it were some unhappy D-Row Ballers, but most were just people. Tonio walked among them, but he seemed to stand above them, like he was larger than he was. 

_“How many of you are tired of waking up and wondering if you’ll be able to eat today? How many of you are hungry for brothers and sisters to protect you, instead of thieves and vagrants and junkies that will leave you for dead in the street if you’ve two credits to rub together? How many of you are those vagrants and vagabonds, wishing for a better way to survive?”_

He was really starting to draw a crowd, now. _Just what I needed, someone charismatic._ I glanced at the others. Sullivan was just watching, same as when she came in. But, though her arms were crossed, I could see the hand still clutching the remote. The knuckles were beginning to whiten. I turned my attention to Sarif. His gaze was intent, calculating. He still had a hand cupping his chin, and one of his fingers curled and uncurled in thought. Hauzer had stopped cleaning his gun. For the first time, emotion had entered his eyes. And it was rage. I kept watching.

_“We are the Family! Some call us Abandoned, and they’re right! We have been abandoned. We have been written off as worthless by our parents, our bosses, our friends… even ourselves. We’ve been made cast-offs. Orphans. Exiles. Yes, we have been exiled by a society that believes it doesn’t need us. But I am here to tell you… brothers… sisters… we are not worthless! We are not cast-offs! We will not be written off! You! You matter. You are important, brother. And you, sister. And you, and you, and all of you here!”_

Tonio walked back up the stairs of the building. He held out his hands, as if embracing the crowd, smiling magnanimously. I shook my head, then paused. Behind him on the stairs stood Serene Bucali, Ellie Durmut, a much more heavily augmented Dick Carmicheal… and Pritchard. The man’s hair was out if it’s usual ponytail, and he was dressed in black, but it was definitely him. He looked uncomfortable, but made a point of looking at the camera none the less. _Good job, Francis._

_“Join us! Join your brothers and sisters in the Family! If you lack purpose, we will provide it! If you lack safety, we will provide it! If you lack food, water, shelter; we will provide it! If you lack love…”_

Here, Tonio glanced at Pritchard. The tech looked away. _A little more than a ‘thing’..._ It was hard to tell if anyone else had noticed the exchange.

_“We will provide it!”_

Tonio finished to cheers, and began talking with people individually. Dick said something to Pritchard, and led him inside. The cameras went overhead, and Eliza Cassan began speaking again. Sullivan muted the broadcast.

“I told you,” Hauzer said, returning to cleaning his gun.

“The man’s clearly an egomaniac,” Sarif said. Sullivan glanced at me, and I believe shared in the irony. _Takes one to know one…_

“I saw Pritchard in the background,” I said. Sullivan and Sarif looked at me.

“Where?” Sullivan asked. I walked around my desk, but didn’t get far. My office really wasn’t meant to hold four people. 

“He had his hair down, and was dressed differently,” I said. “He was standing with the other leaders of Tonio’s crew.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Sarif said. Then he looked at Sullivan and frowned. “Shauna, you look like hell.”

“I try,” the woman said, pushing her hair behind her ear. She wasn’t wearing any makeup now, but the bags under her eyes had certainly gotten more pronounced. 

“Have you been getting any sleep?” I asked, feeling a bit tired about the conversation myself. The woman heaved a sigh.

“I’ve tried,” she said, then turned and handed me the remote. “I’m gonna go set up, ping me when you’re ready.”

When she’d left, Sarif looked at me. 

“I hired her after the attack,” he said, then debated before continuing. “Her fiance was one of the scientist that… didn’t make it. It was Frank that recommended her.”

I didn’t reply. Sarif nodded to me, then looked at Hauzer, considered saying something, and left instead. When he was gone, Hauzer put away his gun, and stood. 

“Have fun,” he said.

“Where are you going?” I asked. Hauzer looked at me over his shoulder.

“To kill my brother,” he said, and walked on. I watched him a few moments.

“Sullivan,” I said. 

“Here and ready,” the woman replied. 

“How long have you been listening?” I asked. She hesitated a moment too long. “Sorry about your fiance.”

“So am I,” she replied. I had no answer to that. So I headed out into the city instead.

## Abandoned Headquarters 10:15:43

It wasn’t too hard to sneak into the building. There were so many people around that no one noticed me slip around the back, finding a vent into the building. I looked at the map, but it was hard to guess where anything would be as far as the gang was concerned. So I snuck around guards and through vents. Eventually, I made my way upstairs. It seemed Tonio liked to be on top literally as well as figuratively. There was a vent that led around the main room on the top floor, and I used a grate to look inside.

There were supply boxes, ammo, guns and even augs laying out. The main members of Tonio’s crew seemed to have their own little areas. But Tonio himself was in the center.

“But _Tonio_ ,” Ellie said, sitting on a box in the man’s area. “Ellie _hates_ how all these dirty people show up after you talk.”

“Ellie, we _need_ them,” Tonio replied, patience clearly growing thin. While not in front of a crowd, his latin accent was more pronounced. “You can’t fight a war without soldiers, babe.”

“Don’t _babe_ Ellie!” the woman said. She pouted like a petulant child. “Ellie knows you don’t want her.”

“And who would I want?” Tonio asked. He was trying to work on some kind of device. 

“Ellie, maybe you should-” Carmichael cut in, trying to stop her.

“Frankie,” Ellie said. “Ever since Hilde-”

Tonio backhanded the woman, knocking her off the box and to the floor.

“Don’t be bringing up Frankie and Hilde!” the man said. Ellie glared up at him, and the man’s shoulders relaxed. “Listen, Ellie, I’m sorry, I’m just under a lot of pressure with the job and-”

“And Frankie’s lack of interest in continuing your former relationship?” this came from Serene. She sat on a box behind Carmichael, filing her nails. Tonio glared. The woman’s voice gave nothing away, and she returned Tonio’s look coolly. “I mean, the only reason you let him slip away before was because he and Hilde looked so alike, right?”

“Watch it, Serene,” Tonio said. The woman scoffed.

“Or what? You’ll hit me?” she asked. “I just don’t understand why you’ve fixated on him.”

“It’s none of your business,” Tonio replied. Ellie had picked herself up, a gash was across her face from the punch. 

“I… I’m sure Frankie’ll come around,” Dick said. He was twitchy, and Serene passed him a needle. “And then it’ll be like the old days.”

“Ellie doesn’t want the old days,” the woman said, patching herself up. She was clearly used to doing so. “Ellie wants Tonio.”

“Tough luck,” Serene said. “He didn’t even pick you when Hilde-”

“We aren’t talking about Hilde!” Tonio growled. Serene watched him a moment, then shrugged and returned to her nails.

“In any case,” she said. “There’s no reason to get so upset. Dick’s right. Frankie will cave. The way he always does.”

“Ellie hopes he kills Raven first,” the blonde said. 

“If she doesn’t stop hovering over him, he will,” Serene said.

“She’s expendable anyways,” Tonio said, returning to his device. 

“So much for everyone belonging…” Sullivan muttered. I didn’t say anything, but continued down the vent. There was a grate to another room, and I heard a familiar voice drifting through.

“... wouldn’t work!” Pritchard snapped.

“Well why not?” a woman demanded.

“Because _some_ of us install an IPS with a signature for buffer overflows,” the chief of cyber security said. “We call ourselves _employed_.”

I crept up to the grate and looked in. Pritchard was at a computer, and a woman stood hunched over him. Her black hair screened her face, though it made little difference with the hoodie as well.

“Fuck you,” the woman said. “Do a Christmas Tree scan. Maybe we’ll get an OS.”

“Why don’t _you_ do that,” Pritchard said. “And then _you_ can explain to Tonio why SWAT is crashing through windows and breaking down doors.”

“Then what the fuck do _you_ suggest?” the woman asked.

“ _I_ suggest you leave me alone to _work_ , damn script kiddie…” Pritchard replied. For some reason, this seemed to insult the woman.

“Script kiddie?” she demanded. “I’m leet!”

“The fact that you said that seriously just proves that you’re a script kiddie,” Pritchard replied. They were facing the vent, and I could see the expression on the tech’s face. It was one I wasn’t altogether unfamiliar with. “Can you even do _anything_ without a GUI?”

“Shut up,” Raven, I assumed, said. “I could if I wanted to.”

“I’m sure,” Pritchard said.

A door opened, and the woman turned toward it. 

“How’s it going?” Tonio asked, walking in the room. Pritchard made a point of ignoring him.

“He hasn’t done _anything_ ,” Raven said. Tonio ignored her, placing his hands on Pritchard’s shoulders. The tech looked like he was trying very hard to stay still.

“Frankie,” he said, looking at the screen with pretended nonchalance. “How’s it going?”

“You don’t hack a corporate system in a night,” Pritchard said. “And you certainly don’t do it with constant distractions.”

Tonio’s grip visibly tightened, then he took the hint. He left, but not before telling Raven to keep an eye on the tech. I continued through the vent. I’d seen another vent in the room, one I could use to get in. With both hackers distracted by their argument, it was child’s play to sneak up behind Raven and knock her out. 

Pritchard turned in surprise, but said nothing as choked out the woman. I let her drop, and Pritchard stood. He opened his mouth, but I put a finger to my lips, indicating the door. The Chief of Cyber Security nodded. I pointed to the vent, and he made a face, but nodded. I went first, and Pritchard crawled in behind me. 

“... luck, Don Juan?” Serene asked in the main room. Something crashed.

“Shut up,” Tonio said. 

“Ellie thinks Frankie won’t come around,” the woman said. “Ellie thinks-”

“Ellie’s an airheaded bitch that needs to shut her whore mouth,” Tonio replied. I wasn’t sure how Pritchard would react to the conversation, and so hurried by. It took a little longer with a second person, but eventually, we did manage to slip out of the warehouse before Pritchard’s absence was noticed.

“Jensen,” the tech said, when we were outside the building.

“What?” I asked. The tech seemed unsure what to say. It was strange, to see him at a loss for words. Or with his hair down, wearing a muscle tank that showed off his tattoo and- “Are those leather pants?”

“It seems Tonio is extremely nostalgic,” Pritchard replied, eyeing the offending garment. “I had a… phase, as a teenager. I suppose I should just be happy he didn’t hand me nail polish and eyeliner.”

“I don’t think there’s enough makeup in Detroit to make your face look better,” I replied. Force of habit, really. Pritchard rolled his eyes.

“At least _I’ve_ never gone into a woman’s restroom,” the man replied, crossing his arms. 

“Enough with the love fest,” Sullivan said. “I’m seeing movement. I think they might have caught on.”

“We need to move,” I said. Pritchard nodded, indicating I should lead the way. We went through back alleys and side streets. I realized at one point that I could see my breath. Winter was coming on. I glanced at Pritchard. He had his arms crossed, but didn’t complain. I decided to make a detour, for more than one reason. 

“Sullivan,” I said over the Infolink. “I’m going to stop at my apartment. I’ll call you in a bit.”

“... exactly what kind of relationship do you and Frank have?” the woman asked suspiciously.

“The kind where I can offer a man warmer clothes and reasonable pants,” I replied. Sullivan scoffed, but cut the connection in any case. I don’t think Pritchard was really aware of where we were going until we reached the lobby of the Chiron Building.

“Jensen, are we going to your apartment?” Pritchard asked.

“They know where you live,” I said. “And I figured you’d want to change before heading into work.”

“... thanks,” Pritchard said. He was being oddly quiet. But I was used to silence.

## Adam Jensen’s Apartment 12:06:14

Pritchard looked around, walking into the living area. “Hm. Still haven’t unpacked, Jensen?”

“I’ve been busy,” I said. The tech nodded. Then the man sunk into the couch, seeming utterly exhausted. Being a good host, I went to the kitchen and retrieved whiskey and two glasses. I went and sat on the other side of the couch, putting the glasses on the table and pouring. “You seem like you could use a drink.”

“Though I hate to agree with you, yes, I could,” Pritchard said, forcing himself to sit up enough to grab one of the glasses. I watched him as he took a cautious sip, then downed the rest. I held the bottle as an offer for another, and the tech held out his glass. He leaned back, only sipping this one. I set the bottle down, and picked up my own drink. After a moment, I leaned back a bit and started on my own drink. I looked at Pritchard.

“Are you ok?” I asked. 

“Worried about me, Jensen?” Pritchard replied, but with no bite. “I’m not injured, if that’s what you mean. But I don’t think you’re supposed to be ‘ok’ after being kidnapped for a week.”

“Want to talk about it?” I asked. 

“I’m sure you already know more about me than I ever wanted you to, so no,” Pritchard said. “And, let’s face it, Jensen, neither of us is really good at this… _feelings_ thing.”

I considered what he said a minute, then set my drink back down. I retracted my sunglasses, and looked Pritchard in the eye. I seemed to catch the man off guard, at the least.

“When we were investigating everything else,” I started. “I found out I was adopted. My real parents worked for White Helix. I was part of a group of children they were performing genetic research on. That’s why I don’t need Neuropozyne. All the other children died in the trials. When my parents found out that I was going to be used to inoculate the next batch of children, they had Michelle Walthers sneak me out before setting the lab on fire. She gave me to the Jensens. And I’m pretty sure you already know what happened with Megan.”

Pritchard seemed at a loss for words again. Finally, he frowned.

“Why tell me this?” he asked. I reached for a pack of cigarettes on the table, and brought one out to smoke. I took a drag as a way to buy some time to reply. 

“Because you’re one of the few people I trust,” I said finally. 

Pritchard was quiet for a while after that. We sat in silence, until the man finally spoke up.

“What did you want to know?”

“What you’ll tell me,” I said. “I know most of what happened, but I don’t know why.”

“Well… it’s best to start at the beginning, isn’t it?” Pritchard said, mostly to himself. “I was born in New Hampshire when my parents were on vacation. They lived in Texas, though my mother was French. Hence the name.”

“When I was seven, they died in a car crash. I survived it. I ended up in the foster care system, since my mother’s family didn’t come to claim me, and my father had no other family to speak of. I’m sure it isn’t a large stretch of the imagination if I were to say I wasn’t a sweet kid. My mouth got me into a lot of fights, and I lost more than I won. My father had been a computer engineer, my mother a freelance programmer. They joked that they worked so well together because they were ‘hardware and software’. Honestly, I’m lucky that cheese isn’t genetic. Computers were more of something I just _did_ than an actual interest. As I got older, I started to realize how I could use it to my advantage.

Tonio wasn’t the first bully I marketed my skills to, but he was the worst. I didn’t realize it at the time, because, well, you’ve seen how he can be. He got people wrapped around his finger with a smile. If it weren’t for his anger management issues, he would have been adopted without a problem. As it were, I was fourteen when I met Tonio, and he was sixteen.

I’ll admit, in the beginning, he charmed me. He’d already recruited Dick and Ellie. Unlike the other bullies, he praised my skills, complimented my work. I _wanted_ to please him. We all did. He kept us safe, made us feel like we belonged. God knows we all missed that. For a while, it was ok. Tonio’s anger was aimed at other people. He was a brilliant actor. He even…”

I didn’t push. The silence stretched. Pritchard downed the rest of his glass, and then stared at it. He was remembering something, and smiled bitterly.

“God, I was so _stupid_. I bet he even drugged the drink. Not that he needed to, when I practically idolized him. My first time drinking, and he… I can’t even say how many ways he took advantage of me at the time. I’m still not sure why he fixated on me. Maybe it was because I kept putting up a front, an act. And sometimes I pushed, just to see what I could get away with. The others didn’t do that. They didn’t dare. I think it was just the challenge. Or maybe that he _knew_ it was all an act. He gets off on control. The fact that he could still manipulate me, someone smart and paranoid, probably just kicked it into high gear. God…”

Silently, I took Pritchard’s glass, and poured him another. He shook his head, but accepted, knocking it back. He leaned back.

“You’re the last person I thought I’d have _this_ conversation with,” he said. 

“Must be my magnetic personality,” I said. Pritchard laughed. It was more of a scoff, but it was better than nothing, I suppose.

“You’re an idiot, Jensen,” he said. 

“You don’t need to be a rocket scientist to kick in doors and shoot people,” I said. Pritchard scoffs again.

“Oh God, I said that, didn’t I?” he asked. It was clear the alcohol was kicking in. A little late, I wondered if Pritchard drank much. “Sorry. I guess I’m still trying to be… invaluable.”

“It’s fine,” I said. For a while, we said nothing. Pritchard nursed his empty glass, and I almost thought he’d fallen asleep when he spoke again.

“Anyway, I’m sure you can guess what happened next. Tonio used us to commit crimes, and couldn’t keep up his act forever. To be honest, it wasn’t until after I was adopted by that prick that I realized I’d only been being used. Despite Tonio’s temper, despite the way he could turn ugly at the turn of a hat… social services wanted us separated, and Pritchard wanted a hacker. I’m sure he made a generous contribution to own me. And then I worked for him, up until his untimely death. Then… well, I went freelance. Had my own little crew. We got caught, Sarif approached me and made me an offer to work for Sarif Industries. That’s it.”

“That’s a hell of a life, Francis,” I said. Pritchard shook his head.

“Yes, well,” he said. “I’m trying to move past it.”

“... what about your sister?” I asked. I wondered if I pushed too far after everything else, but Pritchard just looked tired. He leaned forward, putting his glass on the table, then leaning on his knees.

“Matts… I left her behind,” I said. “I left her with… with Tonio.”

“Pritchard-” I started, but he waved a hand.

“‘You were only a child’? ‘You didn’t know any better’? Spare me the platitudes, Jensen,” he said. “I was young, but some part of me _knew_ what Tonio was. And I fed my sister to the wolf.”

“But you tried to find her,” I said. Pritchard turned his head, just enough to look me in the eye. Uncertainly, gauging his reaction, I placed a hand on the tech’s shoulder. He didn’t flinch away. “You’re not a bad person, Francis.”

“Fucking hell,” Pritchard said, burying his head in his hands. He laughed, the sad, bitter laugh of the drunk and cynical. “Fucking hell, Jensen… it’s all fucked up.”

“Yeah, it is,” I said. I tried to remember if I’d ever heard the man swear before. “But we’re going to fix it.”

“We?” Pritchard asked, looking up at me a little blearily.

“You had my back, with Michelle Walthers, in Singapore, and Panchaea,” I said. “I didn’t ask for it. But I appreciate it more than you could know. So now it’s my turn. I’ve got your back, Pritchard.”

The tech blinked at me a few moments. The he scoffed, then he actually burst out laughing. I sat back watching with an arched brow.

“It’s so ridiculous,” he finally gasped out. “Did you practice that little speech in a mirror? ‘I… I appreciate it more than you could know’? I mean, seriously, Jensen. A fourth grader could come up with something better than _that_.”

“You know, I was trying to be serious…” I said. 

“Were you _really_?” Pritchard asked. “I couldn’t tell with how corny you were being.”

“Francis, you’re an ass,” I said. The man managed to compose himself, but just barely as he leaned back.

“It takes one to know one, _Adam_ ,” he said. He at least seemed to be in a better mood than his earlier depression. “You know, when I first met you, I thought you were him.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Tonio,” Pritchard replied. “I mean, I usually assume everyone has ulterior motives, but you… I assumed you were a bully.”

“Is that the real reason you disliked me so much?” I asked. Pritchard nodded.

“That, and I thought you only got the job because you were sleeping with Megan,” he replied. I shot him a look, and he shrugged. “Like I said, I assumed.”

“And now?” I asked. Pritchard was quiet a moment.

“Now, I know better,” he said. “Granted, it took me some time, but… I realized you weren’t… as _much_ of a bully as I thought you were.”

“Thanks, Francis,” I said. “And you’re not half as much of a dick as people think you are.”

“Let me guess, I’m worse?” he asked. I smiled a little, and Pritchard returned the expression. 

“Much worse,” I agreed. For a few minutes, we stayed that way. Then Pritchard cleared his throat and looked away. I looked back to my glass, a little whiskey still in the bottom. With my health mods, it didn’t matter much, but I downed it anyway. 

“Listen, Jensen…”

I shifted, looking at Pritchard. 

“Thank you, for…” he struggled. “Rescuing me. And… listening.”

I considered what to say to that. 

“Well, it was that, or keep getting tech support from Sullivan.”

“You poor soul,” Pritchard replied, then gestured at the whiskey bottle. “You should have another drink, just for that.”

“... it was nice, what you did for her,” I said, though listening to his advice. He shrugged.

“Her fiance and I got on well enough. We had a drink after his funeral, and I found out she knew about as much computing as he did, and figured it would help her with Neuropozyne payments,” he said. 

“She’s augmented?” I asked. Pritchard nodded.

“She shows them off when she’s out of the office. Was in the military, before it was privatized, and an IED took her legs,” he said. “She’s gotten a few cerebral augments since taking the job at Sarif Industries. To help with network security.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” I said. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t seen her before, given you live in the same building,” Pritchard said. 

“We do?” I asked. Pritchard shook his head.

“Jensen, your attention to detail is deplorable,” he said. “With all the late nights you’ve pulled, I’m actually surprised you _haven’t_ met Sullivan prior to this. Or is it only me you grace with your brooding on a daily basis?”

“I don’t brood,” I said. Pritchard arched a brow. 

“Only when you have something else to do,” he replied. “Like chase conspiracies around the globe or break into a gang’s headquarters.”

“I don’t brood,” I said stubbornly. Pritchard rolled his eyes. There was a knock at the door. Actually, it was more like a pounding. Flipping on my shades, I got up, walking over to it. I looked through the wall, but the person had no weapons. In fact, it looked like…

“Malik?” I asked, opening the door. The woman rushed past me. 

“No time for pleasantries,” she said. “Good to see you’re alright, Frank. Nice look.”

“Thanks,” Pritchard said, crossing his arms as Malik grabbed the remote and turned on the television.

_“... have not confirmed how they made it in, but Abandoned has managed to take over Sarif Industries.”_

I shut the door and walked over, watching the screen as Eliza Cassan reported the news. It was an overview of Sarif Industries, barricades against the police set up outside the doors. 

_“Their leader has not yet made any demands, and it seems there’s an ongoing firefight between SI security and the gang members, employee safety being the main concern.”_

“Sullivan,” I tried with my Infolink, speaking aloud for the benefit of the others in the room. “Sullivan. Sullivan, answer, damn it.”

“Do you watch the news, like, ever?” the reply finally came. There was gunfire in the background. “Because this isn’t really a good time, security guy.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” I said, turning from the television screen. Pritchard had stood up, and look until he spotted my computer. Malik just looked at me anxiously.

“They seem to be heading up to Sarif,” Sullivan said. “I shut down the elevators remotely, and just managed to get maintenance to cut power to them for good measure. Wouldn’t want just anyone to hack their way in and turn them on.”

“Not really what I’m looking for, Sullivan,” I said, trying to think.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you try talking and shooting at the same time,” the woman replied. 

“Sullivan,” I said, trying to get her to focus.

“Ok, so employees are pretty much scrambling to ‘safe zones’ Haas is making, and security is guarding them. They’ve made it up to level 12, and we could use some help,” she said. 

“How’d they get in?” 

“Apparently someone thought we needed a sewer entrance,” Sullivan replied. “Guy came in the front office, pulled out a gas grenade. While security ran to that, bunch of other guys snuck in through the basement and surprised them from behind, while another group got in through the helipad entrance.”

“Hence why Malik is at my apartment,” I said. 

“Yeah, I’d assume so,” Sullivan replied. “Oh, goddammit!”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Ran out of ammo,” Sullivan replied. “Haas managed to lock down the armory, but these guys brought their own arsenal.”

“Hang tight. I’m on my way,” I said. 

“That wouldn’t be impressive if I hadn’t worked with you before,” Sullivan replied, then cut the connection.

“I can provide you tech support from here, Jensen,” Pritchard said. 

“Let me know when you’re ready to go,” Malik said. 

“Sorry, Fly Girl,” I said. “Looks like this is going to be an underground entrance.”

“Well, then call when I can help,” the pilot replied. I nodded. Then I looked over at Pritchard. He was busy setting things up on my computer, probably just opening programs he was used to. I walked up to him. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“Are you worried I’m inebriated or traumatized?” the man asked. “Because the answer to both is no, and Radford found out as much about me as you did, if you were wondering.”

“... Sarif did a background check on me, too,” I said. Pritchard scoffed.

“You thought he hadn’t?” he asked. He turned to look at me. “Sarif hired me after I was _arrested_ , Jensen. I would be sorely disappointed if he _hadn’t_ done a background check on me. Now get going, there are people in danger.”

“Good to have you back, Francis,” I said, and glimpsed the man roll his eyes as I left him. Malik had settled on my couch, watching the news, and I left the apartment in their hands. Hopefully that wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass.

Hopefully.


	5. Day Four: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FIGHT FIGHT FI-Oh, wait...

## Sarif Industries 13:44:09

“Remind me to have this entrance blocked when this is over,” I said to Pritchard as I knocked out the last guard.

“I’m not your secretary, Jensen,” the man replied. “You’ll just have to pretend you have enough brain cells to rub together to remember yourself.”

I was antagonizing. I wasn’t sure _why_ I was antagonizing, but I knew I was. Maybe I had just gotten to used to Sullivan’s constant need to comment on everything. Or maybe I missed Pritchard more than I thought I had. Probably the former, though.

“H-hey.”

I stopped, about to climb up the ladder and into SI. I turned slowly. Dick Carmichael, now more machine than even me, stood leveling a rocket launcher at me. He was tweaked, and the burned half of his face twitched. 

“N-not… nnot so fast, Jjjensen,” he said, having trouble speaking. It would be hard to tell if it was the injury or simply a result of habitual drug use that caused Dick’s new speech impediment.

“Is your burn bothering you?” I asked. Dick chuckled, a high, stringy, ugly sound.

“Thhhhat w-was your f-fault,” he said. “Y-you caused tthhhis.”

“I didn’t fire a grenade launcher next to you,” I said. 

“Jensen,” Pritchard said. “I’m only going to say this once. Do _not_ mention Serene.”

“Y-y-you were thhe one ssshe w-was aiming ffor,” Dick said. He flicked the gun to the side. “Sstep aw-way from th-there.”

“How long have you been on the Leash, Dick?” I asked, slowly stepping to the side. I had an EMP grenade, I just needed to reach it…

“Hhhhhands up, a-asshole,” Carmicheal said, rocket launcher swivelling slightly. I cursed to myself as I slowly brought up my hands. “Aaand th-that’s none of y-your bbbuisness.”

“Why not?” I asked. “Just trying to make conversation.”

My CASIE popped up, the Omega bar flaring briefly.

“Wwwwhy would y-you d-do that?” Dick asked.

“You’ve gotta be an important guy,” I said. “Tonio doesn’t seem like he keeps just anyone around.”

“III’mm nnnot s-special,” Dick said. Beta there. 

“Look at you,” I said. “Do you think they’d put that much effort into keeping just anyone alive?”

“Nnno,” Dick said. “B-But thhat’s j-just because I’mm part of the oooriginal c-crew.”

“Sure you’re not selling yourself short?” I asked. I was moving my hands down as slowly as I could manage. “Your men have a lot of respect for you. I heard them talking about it.”

“Y-yeah?” Dick asked, rocket launcher lowering further. “Wwwhat did th-they ssay?”

“That you were Tonio’s top guy for recruiting,” I said. _That’s it, nice and easy…_

“Nnn-n-no,” Dick said. 

“It’s true,” I said. “So, I was just… curious, how you managed to get so popular with that drug addiction.”

“Wwwasn’t alwways a d-dober,” Dick said. “I uuused to b-be somebody.”

“You aren’t now?” I asked.

“Y-you don’t g-get it, do yyou?” Dick asked. He raised the rocket launcher. “S-seren may haave put th-the needle in, b-b-but it wwas Tonio that mmade the call.”

“Then why stay with him?” I asked, slowly raising my hands again. Dick scoffed.

“Yyou seem to th-think th-there’s a ch-choice,” he said. He shook his head. “You d-don’t get out of Abandoned. Tonio makes s-sure of it.”

“You tried?” I asked. Dick laughed. Hysterically, desperately.

“III’m nnot an i-idiot,” he said. “T-Tonio d-d-didn’t fix mmme bec-cause he l-likes me. He jjjust d-doesn’t wwwant ch-change. Th-that’s why I-I’m a d-dober. B-because I t-tried to l-leave, y-yeah. Ss-so he hhad Serene st-stick a n-needle in mme. I sw-sw-swore wwwhen mm-my m-mother d-died I wwould n-never d-do drugs. T-Tonio ss-said he wwould p-protect mme. Sso mmuch f-for p-p-promises.”

There was sudden _ratata_ of gunfire, and I rolled out of the way as Dick let loose a rocket. It hit the ladder, and I hit the wall hard. I coughed, pushing away to see what was going on. 

Damien Hauzer, thoughtfully swirling a cigarette in his mouth, stood with his machine gun on his hip. He looked at a slow moving Dick, then to me.

“What were you going to do? Talk him to death?” he asked.

“D-Damien,” Dick said. It seemed some of his rotors had been disconnected, impairing his movement. A helmet slid over his head. The Dynacore aug took as long drag from his cigarette, then blew the smoke out his nose.

“I’ll take this one, but remember,” he said. “Tonio’s mine.”

“Sure,” I said, and moved over to where the ladder had stood before I could get caught in a crossfire; I jumped, barely grabbing the bottom rung. _There are certain advantages to being Frankenstein._

“Was that Damien Hauzer?” Pritchard asked over the infolink.

“Yeah, you know him?” I asked. “Or why he’s gunning for Tonio?”

“He was a local kid in the area,” Pritchard said. “He and Tonio crossed the border together. Damien got adopted, and Tonio later got Damien’s adopted brother killed in some kind of messed up retribution.”

“Yeah, that’d do it,” I said. “He came after Tonio in Texas, and followed me when it wasn’t there.”

“I always did kind of wonder what happened to him,” Pritchard said. 

“At least he’s one of the people from your past _not_ trying to kill me,” I said. Pritchard snorted.

“You’re a big boy, Jensen,” he said. “I’m _sure_ you can take care of yourself.”

“Wish I could say the same of you, Francis,” I said. I reached the top of the ladder, and peered over the edge. Two guards, facing the door. Quietly, I pulled myself up. “Then maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“And miss out on all the fun?” Pritchard asked dryly as I knocked out the two guards. “You’ll have to work your way up to the lobby first. It looks like most of Abandoned’s forces are there, holding off the Detroit PD.”

“Got it,” I said, and started making my way through the floor. This had to be the basement Sullivan had talked about; there were rows of computers and a server room through a glass door. Some guards had workers and a security team member pinned down in there. I dispatched the guards as quickly as I could, touched based with Philips, and left her to guard the civilians. It seemed we’d managed to take minimum casualties so far, though there were a few fatalities. I worked my way up through the floors, taking out Abandoned members where I could, avoiding others. When I reached ground level, I looked through the wall. There was guard standing in the hallway, but facing away from the door.

Quietly as I could, I eased the door open, then slowly closed. Then I crept up behind the guard and choked her out. I dragged her back into the staircase, then crept back outside. I went down the hallway, then pressed against the wall while I peeked around the corner. Ellie Durmut sat on Cindy’s desk, polishing her nails. 

“Ellie knows you’re there,” she sing-songed. She looked in my direction, smiling. “Ellie thinks you should come out and play.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. I looked at the floor above. I didn’t see any gang members, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

“But Ellie’s lonely,” the woman whined. She twisted, leaning down to show off her low cut shirt. 

“Sorry, I don’t think you’re my type,” I said. Ellie pouted.

“Why not?” she asked, twisting her hips to match her torso, one leg on the floor, the other on the desk. Her augments had heeled feet. “Is Ellie not pretty enough?”

“What would make you say that?” I asked. From this distance, without facing the woman head on, my CASIE was useless. I’d have to do this the old fashioned way.

“Well, what else could it be?” she asked, slowly laying on the desk and turning onto her back. I had to admit, she knew what she was doing. But they way she talked like a toddler was extremely disconcerting, not to mention irritating.

“I just don’t think we have anything in common,” I replied evenly. Ellie giggled, playing with her hair.

“Why does it matter what Ellie _likes_?” she asked. “She could make you feel _so_ happy!”

“I don’t go for one night stands,” I said. Ellie sat up, but twisted to keep her chest in view. 

“You’re no fun!” she declared. “Ellie thinks she’ll have Gigi kill you now. Gigi!”

A large, heavily augmented man ambled into my view, and I pulled back behind the wall as he fired a machine gun at me. I cursed to myself, considering what to do. When the gunfire died, I activated my invisibility and moved behind the nearest pillar. Gigi ambled forward, and, as he checked around the corner for me, I ran up behind him and took him out. Ellie screamed, and then she was running at me.

I took her first blow, a kick to the head, sending me stumbling into the center of the room. Ellie cartwheeled forward and kicked my chin, but I grabbed her foot. The woman pushed off the ground, twisted and kicked me in the side of the head. I grunted, then rolled forward to avoid being kicked again. I backed up a few steps, watching the woman warily.

“Jenson, I think you should know, Ellie knows kickboxing,” Pritchard chimed in.

“I hadn’t noticed,” I said. Ellie went on the offensive again, and it was the most I could do to block her. I saw an opening at one point, and took it to punch the woman in the face. She backflipped, landing warily. We eyed each other, and I wondered if I’d have time to reach for my gun as I eased out my blades.

“LOOK OUT BELOW!”

I looked up just in time to see someone jump from several stories above. Someone with an Icarus landing system. I barely moved out of the way as they landed nearly in front of me. A woman straightened, leveling twin pistols at a surprised Ellie. The Abandoned woman just managed to dive behind a pillar as she was barraged. The shooter emptied their clips, dropped one pistol, reloaded the other and grabbed another pistol from her belt before firing again.

“What are you waiting for, an invitation?” Sullivan demanded, and I moved. I ran around Cindy’s desk and up to the next floor. I glanced back, watching as Sullivan retreated behind a pillar while firing. I wondered how much ammo she had. Then I focused on getting to the stairs.

I ducked behind the wall as Abandoned guards fired at me. They’d blockaded the stairs. I brought up a map of SI. Besides the stairs and the elevators, there didn’t seem to be another way up.

“The air vent on the helipad entrance,” Pritchard said. He sounded a little out of breath.

“Are you running?” I asked, making my way towards the helipad.

“No, don’t be absurd,” Pritchard said. I decided to leave it be, coming around the corner slowly to a barricade made by my security team.

“Jensen!” Daniels said, then turned. “Haas! It’s Jensen!”

“Haas?” I asked, moving into the cafeteria to see the man with a makeshift bandage around his shoulder.

“Adam,” he said with relief. “Boy, am I glad you’re here.”

“What happened?” I asked, leaning down in front of him. He was sitting against the wall. Haas lifted his hand, then winced.

“This? This ain’t nothing,” he said. “Just kind of happened. I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Haas,” I said. “Stay here and don’t get hurt worse. You’re more valuable alive.”

“Ha, ha,” the man laughed weakly. I wonder if they’d had any pain killers handy. “Now you sound like Shauna.”

“Is that why she’s out there?” I asked, looking over my shoulder.

“Yeah,” Haas said. “I said I wouldn’t leave anyone behind, so she said she’d get ‘em all.”

“Good,” I said. I gently patted Haas’s good shoulder. “Keep everyone calm. I’m heading up.”

“H-hey, Adam?” the man asked as I rose. I looked down at him. “How’d she look?”

“Sullivan?” I asked. He nodded. “She looked fine. Why?”

“Just wanted to make sure… I made the right call, this time,” he said. I paused, then nodded. I left Haas, and went through the cafeteria to get to the helipad. 

“Anyone out there?” I asked Nelson, one of the security team. He shook his head.

“Not that we’ve seen since they got inside, but someone could have hung back,” he said. I nodded, then cautiously made my way out to the helipad. I had a pistol, and kept it ready as I walked outside, scanning for any enemies. It seemed quiet, which wasn’t usually a good thing. I made my way to the air vent at a measured pace. 

“Adam Jensen.”

I turned around, and my gun found Serene Bucali. The woman was leaning against a wall, looking into a compact while putting on bright red lipstick.

“You are a very hard man to kill,” she said, not looking up.

“I get that a lot,” I said, looking for anyone else in the area. 

“I’ll bet,” Serene said, snapping the compact closed and putting it and the lipstick in a purse. She looked up at me, crossing her arms. “So. What’s in this for you, Mr. Jensen?”

“Excuse me?” I asked, CASIE implant flaring to life. Serene pushed off the wall. She moved with the grace of a large cat; a hunter. But she didn’t move any closer, so I waited to see if I needed to shoot.

“Tonio’s in it for the power, Dick’s in because of the drugs, Ellie’s in because of her lack of self worth… or is that Frankie? I get them confused,” she said, smiling. She was a gorgeous woman. Like a doll. Even her white skirt and blazer were immaculate, and it was hard to tell how long she’d been out here. “So… what are you in this for?”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but you broke into my building,” I said, shifting my stance to follow Serene as she walked to the edge of the building. My CASIE mod was coming up with nil. Serene was just too damn calm. _Something’s wrong._

“But you were interfering before that,” the woman said. She stood at the edge of the building, looking over. I moved to see her face. It was expressionless. “You saved Frankie, didn’t you? So, are you a hero, Mr. Jensen? Do you get off on the warm fuzzies you get from saving someone? From doing the right thing? Bringing _justice_ to the world?”

“... I’m not a hero,” I said. Serene chuckled. She turned to face me. The wind whipped her hair to the side.

“Then what are you, Mr. Jensen?” she asked. “Not a hero… perhaps… a monster?”

I didn’t say anything. Serene cupped her chin.

“Sarif’s little monster,” she said. “Built to hunt and kill his enemies. Is that it? Do you enjoy the thrill of the hunt, Mr. Jensen? Of watching your quarry squirm right before you deliver the final blow? Or is it the killing that speaks to you? Doesn’t the color red just sing?”

The look in the woman’s eyes was utterly unreadable. Her heart rate was steady, her breathing even. I couldn’t read her at all. She took a step up, on the very edge of the building, and spread her hands.

“Is there any greater sound than a litany of screams? Any greater power than to know you hold a man’s life in your hands? Is that what draws you in, Mr. Jensen? The power over life and death; the power of the gods. Do you consider yourself a god, Mr. Jensen? An almighty being, destined to rule over lesser men? That’s the power Sarif has given you; to be more than you are. To be inhuman. Isn’t it better that way?”

Serene looked over the side of the building again.

“Look at it all, Mr. Jensen. What do those poor, mortal beings know? They call you a monster, don’t they? They’re afraid of what you can do. Of the power you have. But they’re wrong. Augmentations are the next step of human evolution, Mr. Jensen. It’s our ascension into godhood.”

“Don’t let her get in your head, Jensen.”

I snapped my gun back up. Pritchard’s voice whipped my mind back into focus. 

“Serene is a high functioning sociopath _and_ a pyromaniac,” Pritchard went on. “She’ll do whatever it takes to manipulate you before she kills you.”

“Talking to someone, Mr. Jensen?” Serene asked, looking at me over her shoulder. She smiled. “Tell Frankie I said hello.”

“Oh, she’s also pretty much android by this point, so you might want your stun gun,” Pritchard said. 

“Thanks for the update,” I said, dropping the pistol to reach for the stun gun. That’s when Serene _moved._

I hit the wall with a grunt. It was hard to tell how the woman had hit me, but however she did it, it had hurt. I looked up. Serene was strolling up to me, like a model on the cat walk.

“Tsk, tsk, just imagine what we could be, Mr. Jensen,” she said. “I don’t understand why men like you and Tonio let yourselves rely on men like Frankie. In this era, why not simply improve yourself to the point that you no longer need them?” 

I tried to get to my stun gun, but as I held it up, Serene kicked it away. She then trapped my hands by kicking at my neck.

“We’ve never been so close to the powers of gods and demons, so why do you refuse to _take_ them?” she asked. “It makes you all so… boring.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” I said, and pushed her foot back. Serene jumped back, and I dove for my stun gun. I leveled it at the woman before she had time to recover, slowly standing myself. 

“You know, I once talked a man into killing himself,” the woman said. 

“Listening to you, I can sympathize,” I said. Serene smiled, then her face fell and she looked to the side. I could hear it, too; the _thrum_ of engines.

The VTOL came into view, lights hitting Serene and wind whipping around the helipad. Faridah spoke over the speakers.

“Jensen, go, I’ll cover you,” she said, and pointed the VTOL’s newly installed weapons system at Serene. The woman watched as I took off for the vent, smiling in amusement. 

“I hope you don’t mind if I break her,” she said, just as I got into the vent. I forced myself to continue on as I heard Faridah open fire. The air vent went up a couple of floors, and from there I could manage to continue up on my own. It seemed they were guarding the stairs on the floors where the most employees were, but didn’t have the manpower to keep watch on every floor. It was effective, but still didn’t answer the biggest question; what, exactly, was Tonio after?

They kept Neuropozyne and the formula for it in the lower labs, but the fact that the group had taken the time to go after Sarif didn’t add up. It could be a distraction; but, if that were the case, Tonio was making a very dangerous gamble. And you didn’t get to running your own organized crime ring by taking those kinds of risks. So, why go after Sarif? A hostage, maybe? But hostages didn’t seem to be Tonio’s style. And, after taking over the building, it made little sense to take Sarif himself hostage. It would be better to take someone important to him hostage, like one of his scientists. I was drawing a blank, and shook my head. It doesn’t matter. All I had to do was stop him.

_Besides, if he’s anything like the rest of them, I can probably just get him talking and let him roll with it._

The man did seem to like to talk. I paused. Sarif’s office was one floor away. I peered around a corner. No guards. But there was, to my surprise, Sarif, Athene and a few members of the security team tied up together near the center of the room. I looked through the walls; no one. I cautiously approached, checking around them for anything that would trigger a trap. Finding nothing, I walked up and untied Sarif first.

“Adam, that bastard took over my office!” David said. I rolled my eyes involuntarily. _Trust the Boss to have his priorities in order._

“He’s taken over the whole building,” I said, untying Athene, then one of the security team members. They went to work freeing the remaining three team members. “The security team prioritized employee safety, and the DPD is waiting outside.”

“Oh, I feel better already,” Boss said, rolling his eyes. Then he grabbed my arm. “Listen, Adam, you have _got_ to get in there and stop him, before it’s too late!”

“Too late?” I asked. Sarif opened his mouth, then closed it, backing off. He was hiding something. “Boss…”

“It was that intern I hired,” Athene said, and both Sarif and I turned to her. “I received an email from her parents begging Sarif Industries to help keep her out of trouble. I thought it would be a good way for SI to give back to the community but… but when that hoodlum broke in, Cherie took me hostage, and forced the security team to tie us all up in here. I’m so sorry, David; I should have known better.”

“It’s fine, Athene,” Boss said, putting a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “It’s not like she was supposed to have access to anything sensitive. It’s my fault she found out about the new Neuropozyne formula.”

“What new Neuropozyne formula?” I asked. Sarif sighed, augmented fingers twitching. 

“We were trying to make Neuropozyne less addictive and more efficient, to raise some better PR for the company,” he said. “Unfortunately, most lab trials have only produced _more_ addictive batches, though some have had… _other_ side effects. I have different labs working on different aspects of it, so I’m the only one with access to _all_ of the lab data. If someone like Tonio were to get his hands on it, with his hold on the drug market…”

“I get the idea,” I said. At least now going after Sarif makes more sense. “Is he still in your office?”

“As far as I know,” Sarif said. “Adam, you can’t let him get those files.”

“Understood,” I said, standing. I turned to the security team members. “The main security force is guarding employees in the cafeteria. There are Abandoned members guarding the stairs on that floor, but not many of the floors above. Try to get in contact with Haas to coordinate your next move. In any case, you might not want to stay here. I’m not sure how much attention I’m going to draw by going up against Tonio, but it’s sure to bring at least some heat this way.”

“Roger that,” Jerrins said. Despite the circumstances, he has a wan smile on his face. But then, Jerrins always smiled. I looked at the other three. They nodded in turn, serious expressions on their faces. I nodded once, then headed towards the stairs to Sarif’s office. I crept up them quietly, then looked through the wall. Two men on the door, a third in the room with Tonio and, I assumed, Cherie the intern. Using my invisibility, I walked up to the two at the door and took them out. I dragged them away, back into the stairwell. Not a moment later, the third came to investigate, as he pulled out a communication device, I hit him with my stun gun. He fell, and this time I just left him. I sidled against the wall, getting to the door to Sarif’s office. I listened as Tonio and Cherie talked.

“Aren’t you done with that yet?” Tonio demanded. 

“I’m working as fast as I can,” Cherie replied. “It’s just… a little more complicated than I expected.”

“What do you mean, more complicated?” Tonio asked. “And where the hell did Conner go?”

“For a man that acts like a petulant five year old, Sarif has his computer security airtight,” Cherie replied. “Honestly, it’s hard enough getting the files on the USB. With an 256-bit AES encryption on the actual files, though, we need his password or we’re up the creek without a paddle.”

_Nice going, Francis,_ I thought. Although the files were Sarif’s, I had no illusions to who had probably… convinced the man to encrypt the files themselves. 

“Then just use an AUD on them,” Tonio replied. Cherie scoffed.

“That’s for breaking into a system,” she said. “Encryption is an entirely different ballpark.”

“Whatever, just get the files so we can get out of here,” Tonio said. “I’ll have Fr-Raven take a look at it when we get out of here.”

“Alright, alright…” Cherie said. Tonio was walking closer, according to my sensors. I needed to move fast, stopping Cherie from getting the files and neutralizing Tonio. I internally ground my teeth, but I knew to only way to hopefully achieve both. 

“Conner-!” Tonios called out, just as I tossed an EMP grenade into the room. “Shit!”

The device went off, and I surged into the room, only to curse and dive to the side. Apparently, Tonio had gotten an augment to guard against electricity. _Wonderful._

I activated my cloak, and moved to the other side of the room. Tonio growled as he searched for me. I looked to Sarif’s desk. Cherie looked like she’d had a stroke. I winced. Neural augments, she probably had. Then I returned my attention to Tonio. I’d managed to get behind some cover, and took advantage of letting my cloak down.

“So, you must be this Jesen guy I been hearin’ about,” Tonio said. He was walking around the center of the room slowly. “Is it true you took out Nova, hombre?”

I stayed quiet. Tonio chuckled.

“Not making it easy for me, eh? I like it; I like it, Jensen!” Tonio declared, firing at the ceiling. The move caught me off guard, but he’d have to do better than that to draw my attention. I peered around my cover. Tonio seemed calm, collected. He was surveying the room. He held a shotgun. _That’ll be a bitch if he gets close._ When he turned, I saw he was also carrying a revolver and a couple of frag grenades. This was definitely going to be fun.

“You’re pretty good, man,” Tonio said. “And no hard feelings about Nova; she was kind of a bitch anyways.”

“Tonio likes to talk, Jensen,” Pritchard said suddenly over the infolink. “Chatting might buy you more time.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” I said to him, then spoke out loud. “I wasn’t the one that took out Nova. That was Hauzer.”

“Hauzer? Oh ho ho, Damien’s still gunning for me? Boy better learn, before he gets hurt!” Tonio said, and I dove and cloaked as he fired at my cover. Tonio frowned.

“I did, however, get Frank out of your hideout,” I said, conversationally.

“You just had to bring me into this, didn’t you?” Pritchard asked, but quietly. _That’s odd._

“That was _you_?” Tonio demanded. Then he immediately calmed down. “I mean, it’s no biggie. We’ll just meet up after I blow this joint.”

“Pretty sure he doesn’t want anything to do with you,” I said. If I could get Tonio to lose his cool, I could make an opening to attack. _Good thing I have so much practice antagonizing._

“You’re loco, buddy,” Tonio said, looking around the room to try and pinpoint my voice. “Me ‘n Frankie, we go way back.”

“Sounds like you don’t know him very well,” I said. Tonio ground his teeth.

“You think you know him better, cabron?” he asked. “I made him what he is! He owes me! Without me, he and his sister woulda been dead in some gutter, or worse!”

“You don’t know that for sure,” I said. “They could have been better off without you.”

“Like hell they would have!” Tonio said. He was searching the room more urgently. “Frankie doesn’t know when to shut up and Hilde always defended him! Anyone but me woulda killed him and whored her out.”

“So why didn’t you?” I asked, diving as Tonio fired at my cover again. Tonio laughed.

“Oh, is _that_ it?” he asked. “You jealous, hombre? Want to know why Frankie picked me?”

“I just don’t know why anyone would pick _Francis_ ,” I said. There was no quip from Pritchard, which seemed out of place. Tonio laughed.

“What, you don’t see it?” he asked. “He’s _special_. He’s got a _gift_. Have you ever _watched_ him hacking? It’s like… watching a dancer. The passion, the focus; I never saw anyone have that. Never saw anyone so… defiant. He spat in the face of the men he should have licked the boots of. You don’t let someone like that go, my friend.”

“Especially when they can get you into highly secured buildings, right?” I asked. I had to dive again.

“Shut the fuck up,” Tonio said. _Looks like I finally got him angry…_ “It wasn’t like that!”

“Really?” I asked. “It seems like you were using him to me.”

“I wasn’t-” Tonio started. “Look, maybe it started out that way, but that’s not how it ended, ok? What the fuck do you know, anyways? I bet-”

“Tonio.”

_Oh._

Tonio turned, and I looked around my cover, hoping to God or whoever else was listening _I did not_ just recognize that voice as-

“Frankie?” Tonio asked, looking about as floored as I was. The breathlessness, the whispering, the cut out… _goddammit, Francis, what the hell do you think you’re doing?_

“Yeah… I, um, I came back,” Pritchard said. I started to walk out, but Francis held up a hand to stop me. Tonio glanced at me, but seemed more focused on Pritchard. The tech walked forward.

“You came back?” Tonio asked. “But… I thought you wanted out…”

Pritchard sighed, stopping so close to Tonio they were nearly touching.

“When you’re in Tonio’s crew,” he said, weakly attempting to smile. “You do what Tonio wants.”

“Why’d you leave?” Tonio asked. He was, understandably, suspicious. I was still trying to figure out what the hell Pritchard was even thinking.

“I didn’t know what it was like without you,” Pritchard said. “I… I forgot what it was like, to be with you. But… I can’t fight it anymore. I’ve made my decision, Tonio. That’s why I’m here.”

“Frankie…” Tonio said. Then he pulled the tech into a one armed hug. Pritchard returned it, and Tonio made a surprised noise. 

“Guess I’m out,” Pritchard said, slowly walking backwards with an empty syringe in his hand.

“You… did you… you _leashed_ me?” Tonio demanded. Pritchard held out his hand.

“Give me the detonator, Tonio,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice. _Detonator?_

“Frankie… how…” Tonio said, his hand moving in jerky motions as he tried to resist. “How could you…?”

“The detonator,” Pritchard said, more insistently. I walked up slowly, unsure of how to handle the situation. Tonio pulled out a small electronic device, and put it in Pritchard’s hand as he fell to his knees. Frank pulled back.

“Now, where is Matts?” he asked. Tonio laughed.

“Oh, Frankie,” he said. “You should have asked that first.”

That was about as much warning as I needed to get myself and Pritchard out of the room. And not a moment too soon, as Tonio somehow managed to blow himself up. The blast threw me to the ground, Pritchard a few feet ahead of me. Ears ringing before the Sentinel Health kicked in, I coughed as I tried to get up. Couple of cracked ribs, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Unfortunately, Pritchard wasn’t wearing body armor. I got to my feet and stumbled over to him, crouching next to him.

“Pritchard.. Pritchard, you ok?” I asked, wary of touching the man if he were seriously injured. He groaned.

“What?” he said, opening his eyes, but not moving. I ground my teeth. He would be lucky if tinnitus was the worst of his injuries. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” I asked. Pritchard winced, but at the moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care. The tech tried to rise, but I pushed him down with a hand on his shoulder. He seemed surprised by it, but didn’t comment.

“He rigged the building to explode,” the man said. “I needed to stop him from triggering it.”

“You should have just told me,” I said. “I would have handled it!”

“How?” Pritchard asked. “Exactly _how_ would you have gotten the detonator off of Tonio?”

“I would have thought of something!” I said. 

“Like hell you would have!” Pritchard said, attempting to rise again. He didn’t get far. “Would you let me up?”

“Not until you get cleared by medical,” I said. “You could have broken bones. You probably _do_ have broken bones.”

“Concerned for my safety, now?” the tech demanded, but stopped trying to rise. “Should I be worried Tonio was right?”

“Dammit Francis!” I said, slamming a fist into the floor. That finally seemed to get his full attention. “I’m not losing any more people! You’re not a soldier! You should have stayed out of it!”

“Jen… Adam,” Pritchard said, and I realized I had retracted my shades. “I… I’m sorry. But… this was personal. I had to do it myself. Do you understand?”

Just like that, I felt the tension drain out of me. Because I did understand. I sighed, scratching the back of my neck. 

“Just… don’t do it again,” I said. Frank chuckled.

“I think I can manage that,” he said, grimacing as he moved one of his arms. 

“How were things downstairs?” I asked. 

“Well, Dick’s dead,” Pritchard started. “Ellie’s dead. Shauna went to help Faridah with Serene. And I think the police finally made it inside.”

“Good,” I said. There was a rumble from below, like an earthquake, or an explosion. I almost jumped up to check it out, then stopped myself.

“Oh, go on,” Pritchard said. I looked at him. “I promise to be good and lay prone on the floor while you play the hero, as always.”

“Little resentment there, Francis?” I asked, moving to the window. The helipad was covered in debris and smoke. It was hard to gather any more information than that. _Let Malik be ok. Please let Malik be ok._

“Hey, security guy…?”

“Sullivan,” I said, turning back towards Pritchard. I felt more relieved than I should at this point, but if Sullivan was alive, that meant Malik could be, too.

“How much do VTOLs cost?” Sullivan asked. And then there was that question.

“Where’s Malik?” I asked. 

“She’s fine. A little worse for wear, but she’ll be… fine,” Sullivan said quickly. “Buuuut we kind of had to use the VTOL as a bomb so…”

“You know what, we’ll talk about this later,” I said, sitting on the floor next to Pritchard. 

“Well, in that case, it was definitely blown up by the crazy android,” Sullivan said. I sighed, cutting the connection.

“How are they?” Pritchard asked.

“They’re ok,” I said. The tech nodded, looking at the ceiling. 

“So, how long do you think it will take the EMTs to arrive?” he asked. 

“Couple hours, probably,” I said. “Depending on how long it takes to clear the building.”

“Mm,” Pritchard said. There were a few minutes of relative quiet.

“So… why did Tonio blow himself up?” I asked. Pritchard sighed.

“Well, rather than simply build a filtration system that would keep drugs from hitting his system due to a mistaken belief that if he filtered out Leash he’d have to filter out Neuropozyne,” he said, “He instead decided the next best option would be to rig himself to explode in the event that Leash hit his system.”

“And you knew that when you injected him?” I asked. Pritchard shrugged, and then winced. “You should try not to move.”

“So you’ve said,” the man retorted. “And yet you’re moving about.”

“I have a Sentinel Health Augment,” I said. “And I’m wearing body armor. I took less damage to begin with, and it’s almost healed now.”

“Damn,” Pritchard said. “J-Jensen? I think I might really be hurt here.”

“Why? What’s going on?” I asked, looking over the tech. He seemed pale, and I took his pulse. It was weak. 

“I feel… dizzy,” Pritchard said. “And my… chest hurts. Thought… it would pass…”

“Are you bleeding anywhere?” I asked. Pritchard looked at me in confusion.

“What? Bleed… I… no?” he said. His breath was getting shallower. I cursed.

“You’re going into shock,” I said. “You might be bleeding internally.”

I got up, looking around before grabbing a chair and dragging it over. I used it to prop up Pritchard’s feet. The man hissed in a breath. Then I moved back to look him over more closely. Given the delay, it had to be blood loss causing him to go into shock. But was it internal or external? I couldn’t see any external injuries severe enough to cause shock. Internal then. _Damn._

“Sullivan?” I said, tracing the link she’d used to contact me.

“Is something wrong?” the woman asked.

“We need EMTs up here. Pritchard’s bleeding internally,” I said. 

“Got it,” the woman said, cutting the link. I returned my attention to Francis. The man’s lips were turning blue, and he seemed about ready to pass out.

“Hey, stay with me, Pritchard,” I said. His eyes flicked to me. 

“I’m the one… that can’t move… remember?” he asked. I sighed. But that was a good sign. It meant he wasn’t too far gone for thinking.

“I remember,” I said, sitting down on the floor. “Just try not to fall asleep. The paramedics are on their way.”

“Not sure… have much choice,” Pritchard replied. 

“Just try,” I said. For once, I wish I had kept my coat on for a mission. Pritchard’s temperature would be dropping, and the wind coming in from the blown out windows combined with his light clothing wouldn’t help. “Talk to me.”

“About… what?” he asked.

“Anything,” I said. “Tell me about your sister.”

“Matts?” Pritchard said. “Too… too kind for… her own… good. She used to… to keep… strays. Cats… dogs and… anything. Had a… bird, once.”

“What did she name the bird?” I asked.

“Yvonne,” Pritchard said. “Mother’s… name. Yvonne… Poulin.”

“How did your parents meet?” I asked. _Where were the paramedics?_ I knew it was unreasonable to expect them so soon, but still…

“I never… knew,” Pritchard said. “Never… asked.”

“Tell me more about Mathilde,” I said. Pritchard shook his head very slightly.

“Can’t… can’t remem… ber,” he said. He was slipping. He’d closed his eyes. 

“Pritchard? Francis,” I said. I cursed when he didn’t respond. Then jumped as a helicopter hovered over the roof. Men rappelled down, wearing EMT jackets. I backed off as they rushed forward. They shouted at each other over the sound of the chopper, then got Pritchard into a gurney. One walked over to me, but I made sure he knew I was fine. He nodded curtly, and he and the other paramedics got back into the helicopter, taking Pritchard with them. I watched after them as they flew off, then contacted Sullivan.

“How exactly did you manage to get a helicopter to the roof?” I asked.

“I didn’t,” the woman said. “Haas did. I think the officer he chewed out might have pissed his pants. It was awesome.”

“Thank Haas for me, then,” I said, and cut the connection. That done, I made my own way down through the building, before something else happened.


	6. Day Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone waits for Pritchard to get out of surgery.

Beaumont Hospital  
00:02:14

I’ve never really liked waiting rooms. But, after being in SWAT and waiting for briefings, or waiting while one of my guys was in surgery, I had gotten used to them. That’s why I could sit and read an e-book as Malik paced in the hall. Sometimes she would come back in, sit between me and Sullivan, fidgeting. Bouncing her leg, biting her nails, wringing her hands. But then she would be up again, pacing. Sullivan was finally getting some sleep, but it was in light dozing periods. She had her arms crossed in front of her where she sat, propped against the wall to keep herself from sliding when she fell asleep. Haas was on her other side, but I was getting the feeling that was more for her sake than Pritchard’s.

After the police had finished clearing the building, then took everyone’s statements, then cleared personnel to leave, I would have preferred to go home, maybe have a drink, then collapse into bed. Or on the couch. I was too tired to really care by that point. But I had always stood by when my men were injured, until I either knew they were going to be alright, or they passed. It was a habit I wasn’t about to break. So I’d gone home, taken a shower, gotten dressed and met Malik outside my building. Sullivan had a car, and drove us all over to the hospital. Haas had already been there, and had a sling on his arm to support his shoulder. 

Pritchard was still in surgery; apparently, his internal hemorrhaging had had complications due to prior injuries. I wished I could say I was surprised. 

I glanced up as someone walked into the room, then stood.

“Miss Siu,” I said, approaching her. The woman had two younger women with her, possibly her grandchild and a friend. 

“Oh, Mister Jensen, how is he?” the woman asked. 

“Still in surgery,” I said. “He has internal hemorrhaging.”

“How did that happen?” Miss Siu asked. I shifted my weight and crossed my arms as Malik walked back into the room.

“He was caught in an explosion,” I said. One of the girls, the one that looked like Miss Siu’s granddaughter, scoffed.

“Sounds sloppy,” she said, popping a bubble of neon blue gum. I gave her a once over. Half her head shaved with swirling designs, a couple braids on the long side, wearing large headphones and a pink biker outfit. 

“Oh, be nice, Yun,” the other girl said. She was black, hair in cornrows and wearing a simple black shirt and pants, a white coat over her arm. She was also tall for a woman, about the same height as me.

“You be nice, I’ll be honest,” Yun replied. Miss Siu sighed.

“Girls, why don’t you two take a seat?” she asked. The two women looked at each other, then Yun shrugged as they both moved to do as they were told. I watched them as they walked past, but then looked back to Miss Siu. “Young people; always so eager to prove who is right.”

“Are you related?” I asked. Miss Siu chuckled and waved her hand.

“No, not as such,” she replied. “I just have a habit of picking up strays.”

“Like Pritchard?” I asked. Miss Siu regarded me carefully. There was something… telling about that look. _She’s not just a simple cleaning lady, is she?_

“Yes, Mister Adams seemed like he needed some family,” she said, and it was gone. I blinked, and looked at her again, but I couldn’t find a trace of the… _something_ I had felt before. Must have imagined it.

“I don’t know how much longer the wait will be. Can I get you something?” I asked. Miss Siu shook her head.

“That is very kind of you, Mister Jensen, but no,” she said. “I will just sit and wait with my girls. Thank you.”

“Who was that?” Malik asked, walking up as Miss Siu walked away.

“Miss Siu, Pritchard’s cleaning lady,” I said, though I was no longer so sure. Malik arched a brow.

“Cleaning lady? Frank always struck me as a the apartment slash server room kind of guy,” she said. I nodded.

“Long story,” I said. “And not sure how much Pritchard would appreciate me telling it.”

“Fair enough,” Malik said. “I just… wish there was something to do.”

“I know the feeling,” I said. “Try not to get too worked up about it.”

“How to you stay so calm in a situation like this?” Malik asked. 

“Practice,” I said, harsher than I’d intended. Malik just nodded solemnly. “I’m going to step out for a moment.”

“Alright,” Malik said, moving so I could walk into the hallway. I moved without thinking much; there was bound to be a vending machine around here somewhere. And I could do with some food to help me stay awake. 

I did find a vending machine eventually, and there was someone standing next to it. A petite woman with curly red hair tied back, wearing a suit. She looked up as I approached, then blinked in surprise.

“Adam Jensen?” she asked. I paused.

“That’s me,” I said. The woman smiled.

“You probably don’t recognize me,” she said. She held out her hand. “My name is Eavan Kavanagh, with Homeland Security.”

“Homeland Security?” I asked, not shaking. Eavan took her hand back. 

“Yes, I was in charge of the Vasquez case,” she said. “But, you might remember me better as Raven.”

“The hacker,” I said, crossing my arms. Kavanagh chuckled.

“Yes, the hacker. The one you knocked out?” she said, arching a brow. “Listen, I’m glad I ran into you.”

“Really?” I asked. Kavanagh nodded, and pulled a file out of her briefcase.

“This is for Frank Pritchard,” she said, holding out the file. “Consider it thank you for his help in resolving the Vasquez case. And an apology for having to deal with my Raven persona.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I said, dubiously accepting the file. Kavanagh snapped her briefcase closed, then turned on her heel. She looked at me over her shoulder as she waved good bye.

“Caio,” she said, and walked away. When I could no longer see her, I opened the file. And stared.

I snapped the file shut, then tucked it under my arm. _I’d worry about this can of worms later._ For now, I bought an energy bar and went back to the waiting room. There was a nurse in the room, addressing Malik as the only one that was standing. Sullivan was awake, and Miss Siu and her girls were watching. I walked up, tossing the energy bar wrapper in the trash as I passed it.

“...stabilized, but we’re going to continue monitoring him for any complications from the surgery,” the man said. 

“Can we go see him?” Sullivan asked. The nurse looked to her, then scratched his head.

“It shouldn’t be a problem, but I’ll have to ask that you do so individually, and try not to rouse him,” he said. “His body’s been through a lot of strain recently, and he needs time to recover.”

“Move it, losers,” Yun said, pushing her way through. “I’m first.”

“Yun was really worried, wasn’t she, Hua?” Miss Siu said to the other girl.

“If you can call it that,” the woman replied. “She kept going on and on about how she’d never finish her bike now.”

“How long have they been working on that now?” Miss Siu asked. Malik and I sat, waiting for Yun to return. 

“Five years, eleven months and four days,” Hua replied. “I doubt they’ll ever finish, really.”

“At least now they’ll talk again, hm?” Miss Siu replied. Hua snorted.

“Yes. Yun’s complaining was starting to get on my nerves,” she said. She noticed me looking in their direction, and returned the look evenly. “Who are you?”

“... Jensen, Pritchard’s coworker,” I said. Hua’s glance darted up and down.

“Well, you certainly have the augments to work at Sarif Industries,” she said. “Ex-SWAT?”

“Did Pritchard tell you that?” I asked. Hua smiled thinly.

“I have my ways. Besides, Frank never talks about work with us,” she said. I arched a brow, but didn’t ask. It seemed better not to. It wasn’t much longer that Yun returned, hands in pockets as she slouched over to a chair and fell in it, popping her gum. Miss Siu stood.

“I think I will go next, if no one minds,” she said, and walked off. 

“That old lady gives me the creeps,” Malik said, leaning over to whisper conspiratorially. 

“Why?” I asked.

“I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something up with her,” the pilot insisted. I crossed my arms, thinking back to the feeling I’d had earlier.

“Maybe, but we don’t have proof of anything like that,” I said. Malik sighed, sitting back. When Miss Siu returned, Hua went after her, then Malik, then Sullivan. Haas didn’t have an interest in seeing Pritchard, but by the time my turn rolled around, Miss Siu and her girls had left. I stood.

“He looks pretty bad,” Sullivan warned. I nodded.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, and walked to the room Pritchard was in. He actually looked better than the last time I'd seen him, though he was still pretty haggard. I closed the door behind me, and retracted my shades.

“How long have you been pretending to be asleep?” I asked, my mods having already told me the man was awake. Pritchard’s eyes opened, but barely. 

“Since Yun decided I needed to be scolded,” he replied. “Apparently, I didn’t dodge quickly enough.”

“Right,” I said, pulling over a chair. “Think you can explain to me who exactly Miss Siu and her girls are?”

“Why? What did she tell you?” Pritchard asked.

“That she was your cleaning lady,” I said. Pritchard scoffed.

“And I bet she did the nice little grandmother act, too,” he said. “She’s technically my guardian. Adopted me after Tobias died.”

“She seems to do that a lot,” I remarked. Pritchard’s brows rose briefly. 

“It’s a habit of hers,” he said. “And then she trains them to be good little pseudo-assassins.”

“Assassins?” I asked. Pritchard weakly waved a hand.

_“Pseudo,”_ he said. “They don’t actually assassinate anyone. But they could.”

“And she taught you, too?” I asked, arching a brow. Pritchard chuckled.

“Some, but I was really too old by the time she met me. Plus, I’m still at a disadvantage when it comes to augments,” he replied. “You can’t really get a good armbar on someone that can lift you one handed. Or, you know, spin their wrist around.” 

“I guess not,” I said, surprised. Then I considered. _Painkillers._ I shook my head, then looked at the folder in my lap. “Listen, Pritchard…”

“Why do you use my last name? You even said I’m not a soldier,” the man said. “I mean, I used to get irritated when you called me by my full first name. But now you’re the only person who ever calls me by it, and it’s… nice, I guess. You should just call me that.”

“Francis,” I started again. 

“See, not so difficult, is it?” Pritchard said. “I mean, we’ve known each other long enough to use first names, right? Unless you’d rather I didn’t call you Adam. I mean, you never seemed to care how people address you before but-”

_“Francis,”_ I said, reminding myself he was on painkillers. The man managed to turn his head and look at me.

“Are you smiling?” he asked. I paused. Sure enough, I could feel the way my mouth tugged at the corners. It was slight, but it was there. I schooled my expression.

“Francis, I have something important to tell you,” I said. “But it has to wait until you’ve recovered.”

“Of course it does, it would be a bad idea to tell me now,” Pritchard said. “I probably won’t even remember this conversation. I can’t remember what they have me on, but it must be strong. I don’t feel anything.”

“Get some sleep, Francis,” I said, standing to briefly clasp the man’s shoulder. I took the folder with me as I left, Pritchard rambling behind me as I left the room.

Adam Jensen’s Apartment  
05:32:10

With nothing else to do, I went back to my apartment. Finally, I was able to set everything aside, crawl into bed and sleep. I woke up several hours later, took a shower, then sat on the couch eating Crunchy Pirates and watching television. Game of Thrones reruns were playing, and honestly, watching that little shit Jeoffry die was never not satisfying. I didn’t even watch most of the series and it was still a great scene.

After a while, my gaze fell to the folder I’d tossed on the coffee table. I hesitated, then leaned up to grab it. I flipped it open.

Inside, was a picture of a woman in a hospital labelled “Jane Doe”. But I knew that woman. Mathilde Adams, sitting in a hospital in Ohio of all places. She was thin and gaunt, and had been taken in for a drug overdose. I sighed softly. I’d have to wait until Pritchard had fully recovered before showing him this, or he’d want to leave right away. I closed the folder, setting it back on the table. There were still the whiskey glasses and bottle there. I hadn’t noticed them when I walked in. 

_This is going to get complicated._

I could feel it.


	7. Day Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap of Day Four, getting the perspectives of Hauzer, Sullivan and Malik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all can thank casie-mod and their wonderful fanart for this chapter ;w;
> 
> also, the idea of what pritchard was doing during panchaea isn't mine, i got it from here: http://secondarythings.tumblr.com/post/97132265034/so-here-are-the-fanfic-ideas
> 
> (couldn't find a way to quickly ask the author, but credit where credit is due)

## Sarif Industries Interim Building 09:13:04

Structural damage to the building had been minimal, but the DPD were still clearing the building for any traps left behind. In the interim, essential personnel were moved to a smaller building SI owned.

The office I was using was sparse, little more than a desk and a couple of folding chairs. But it was all I needed to go over reports from the Abandoned attack. The gang had managed to take out the security cameras, and so I asked personnel to write up reports of what they had seen. There were a few, however, I was talking to personally.

The first of which, on request, was Damien Hauzer.

The man managed to sprawl across one of the chairs, eyeing the sprinkler system as if debating smoking anyways. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Hauzer,” I said, forcing myself to be professional.

“Sure,” Hauzer said, flicking his gaze to me before looking back at the sprinkler head.

“Now, if you would, I’d like you to recount what happened after I left you with Robert Carmichael.”

Damien took one long last look at the sprinkler, then sighed softly and sat up. He looked at me the entire time he spoke.

“Dick and I had a little chat. I don’t remember what it was about, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. With him all closed up like a turtle, I used a couple of frag grenades to crack him open, then shot him in the head. That was about the time Frankie showed up.

To be honest, I almost shot him. But then we talked and he… appealed to my better nature. Then he told me about the explosives and asked me to diffuse them.”

“And you just did?” I asked. Damien smiled faintly. 

“After he took one of the Leash vials from a container in Dick’s suit, sure,” he said. Then he leaned forward, intent. “What did Tonio’s face look like, when Frankie Leashed him?”

I thought back to that moment.

“... like someone shot his puppy,” I replied. Damien smiled faintly again, then leaned back before he stood. 

“I take it that’s all you need?”

“It’ll do,” I said, and watched as the merc left my temporary office. When he was gone, I called Sullivan in.

The woman was haggard; nursing a cup of coffee. She looked like she hadn’t been sleeping for a few days, but yesterday had taken its toll.

“I’m going to ask you what happened with Ellie Durmut,” I said, and she nodded.

“What about the spider andriod chick?” Sullivan asked. I raised a brow.

“I’ll let Malik cover that,” I said. “But you were the only one there with Durmut.”

“Right, right, ok,” Sullivan said, yawning. “So… you left to do something.”

“Get to the boss,” I supplied. Sullivan nodded again.

“Right, you left to do a thing,” she said, waving her hand vaguely. “I had… five more pistols? No, four, I had four pistols and six mags. So when I ran out of ammo for the pistols you saw, I got behind a pillar to reload. And she started saying just… crazy shit. About uh… how we should be on the same team because men tossed us aside and just… shit like that. I wasn’t really paying attention. I was kind of pissed off at the time.

Anyways, she kept chasing me around pillars and kicking around corners and shit, and one of the times she did I guess she made this metal bar just… pop out, kind of? I mean, I started running out of ammo, so I switched to hand to hand. And while she keeps going on and on and on about how she knows just how to make men like her, I managed to back her up in front of this bar. And then I… well, I kicked her into it.

I kind of regret that now, but it wasn’t actually on purpose. I mean, not the way I made it sound. But uh… yeah. She got stabbed. Through the stomach. Pretty, uh, pretty grisly. I mean, there was blood and pieces of-”

“I get the idea,” I said, stopping her.

“Right, of course,” Sullivan said, drinking her coffee. “Who wants that image… everytimetheyclosetheireyes-is there anything else you need?”

“No, that’s all for now,” I said. Sullivan nodded, standing. “I do have a personal question.”

“Shoot,” Sullivan said, pausing. 

“Why _were_ you so angry?”

“She shoot Haas,” Sullivan replied, like it was obvious. I considered asking further, then decided not to. When I didn’t ask anything else, the technician left with a tip of her cup.

Malik looked a little steadier, but she was in civvies. I arched a brow.

“Not much need for a flight suit with no where to land the VTOL on this building,” she said, smiling wanly. I nodded as she sat down. “So, I’m guessing you want to know what went down with the crazy lady?”

“Yes, I would appreciate that,” I said. Malik nodded.

“Ok, so, you went through that vent, and I gave her a warning. You know, your standard ‘don’t move or I’ll shoot’. Well, she moved, so I shot at her. And she just… exploded.

Her stomach came out into segmented pieces, her arms split to match, same with her legs. It was creepy. She started crawling and jumping all over the place; it’s hard to maneuver those tight corners with mounted weaponry. She actually got on the side of the VTOL when Shauna shows up guns blazing like some kind of modern Valkyrie, jumping up the side of the building to get a better shot. 

So now she and spider bitch are jumping around and trying to get at each other, when Shauna comes in through her infolink asking me if I could rig the VTOL to explode and how fast I could jump out of it. And then she explains this crazy plan to get the spider lady in the VTOL by making it seem like she’s going to make a run for it and then jumping out the side before it explodes. I mean, if I could think of another way, I would have, but she was too agile for the VTOL and too heavily armored for Shauna. 

So, that’s what we did. I admit, I didn’t think it was going to work, but we pulled it off. Shauna caught me on the way down and her Icarus landing system got us both on the roof safely.”

“... Sullivan is no longer allowed to give orders during a fight,” I said. Malik chuckled. 

“I don’t think there’s anything to worry about there, Spyboy,” she said. “She didn’t really seem too into it to begin with.”

“Odd, coming from a former spec ops,” I said. Malik gave me a funny look.

“You really haven’t asked her anything about herself, have you?” she asked. 

“Why?” I asked. 

“She was a spec ops _technician_ ,” Malik said. “She didn’t really see combat most of the time, and when she did, she sure as hell wasn’t in charge.”

“If you haven’t noticed, there hasn’t been much time for small talk,” I said. Malik rolled her eyes.

“And what about all the time before the attack?” she asked. “Spyboy, you really need to get out more. Make some friends, get to know some people.”

“I’ll pass,” I said. Malik sighed, but smiled.

“Yeah, I guess there wasn’t much hope for that one,” she said. “But still, I’ll send an invite your way when we do something tamer, like bar hopping.”

“We?” I asked, not liking this idea. 

“Me and Shauna,” Malik said. “Sometimes Frank, when we can get him to let Ricardo look after things. Shauna’s more into the bar scene than me, so whenever we go out, it’s not like a party or anything. Just some guys from work playing pool, throwing darts and drinking piss beer and liquor.”

“You aren’t going to drop this, are you?” I asked. 

“No way, Spyboy,” Malik said. “Maybe you can give us your best James Bond.”

“Pass,” I said, sitting back and stretching.

“So, how many more of these are you doing today?” Malik asked.

“Interviews? None,” I said, picking up a stack of reports. “But I will be going through these.”

“Sound fun,” Malik said. “Were you going to visit Frank at the hospital?”

“Tomorrow,” I said. “You?”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t really have anything else to do here today… well, besides a damage report on the VTOL. Not really looking forward to that,” Malik said, frowning. 

“... is there something going on between Sullivan and Haas?” I asked, on a hunch. Malik blinked at me.

“You don’t know?” she asked. 

“I wouldn’t have asked if I did,” I said, arching a brow. Malik shrugged.

“I guess that’s true,” she said. “But yeah. Since Haas’s wife left him, they’ve had this kind of on and off fling going on. I think it kind of started as a comfort thing, you know? Shauna lost her fiance, Haas lost his wife… but I mean, it’s not like they’re all lovey-dovey or anything. They bicker _a lot_. Almost as much as you and Frank do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. 

“Nothing, just illustrating a point,” Malik said, shrugging. But there was a mischievous glint in her eye that made me frown.

“Malik…” I started.

“Yes?” the woman asked, smiling slightly.

“... don’t you have a damage report to finish?” I asked. I wasn’t going to rise to the bait on this one. Malik pouted.

“Damn, Spyboy, that’s cold,” she said, standing and cracking her fingers. “But you’re right, I do. Catch you later.”

“Catch you later, Flygirl,” I said, looking back to my reports. Most people didn’t really see much, either getting to a safe place quickly or staying in their office.

_It’s like coming back from Panchaea all over again…_

It had taken some time to clean up that mess, but Pritchard had managed to negate any major incidents. I shook my head. It was still a little amazing to think of that; Pritchard’s paranoia had kept him from going crazy, and then he’d gotten the other employees to safety while helping me in Panchaea. 

_And then when we got back we found him in an air vent…_

I wished I had the report on it, because about the only thing better than watching the video feed was reading Pritchard’s account of what happened. And then sending it back after catching the blatant lies. Or just sending it back to annoy Pritchard over minute errors in spelling and grammar. That had been a good month.

“Did something good happen?”

I looked up as Sarif poked his head in.

“No, why?” I asked.

“I just don’t see you smile very often, son,” Sarif replied. I hadn’t realized I’d been smiling. “Thinking of someone, then?”

“Something you need, Boss?” I asked. Sarif arched a brow.

“Just checking in. Where do we stand, security wise?” he asked.

“I’ve been making plans to revise our security procedures and prevent an attack like this in the future,” I said. Sarif nodded.

“Good to hear,” he said. Then he walked forward, leaning on the desk. “So, what _were_ you thinking about when I walked in?”

“Remember that report Pritchard wrote for what happened at SI during the Panchaea incident?” I asked. Sarif nodded.

“It seemed more like you wrote it, to be honest,” the man said. 

“I rewrote the copy I gave you,” I said. “However, I had to have Pritchard revise his report after watching the surveillance feed.”

“Really?” Sarif asked, crossing his arms. 

“And then I continued to have him revise it for about a month,” I said. Sarif tried not to smile. 

“What happened that made you stop?” he asked.

“Pritchard finally got fed up and refused to revise it again,” I replied, and Sarif nodded, giving up and grinning.

“That sounds like Frank,” Sarif said. Then he straightened. “Keep up the good work, son. Things will be back on track before we know it.”

I watched as Sarif as he whistled while leaving my office, then went back to my reports.


	8. Day Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes to Cleveland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter, I'm going to catch Found up timeline wise before writing more here, so give it a go?
> 
> (It's the same story, just from Pritchard's POV.)
> 
> Also, longer than usual chapter is long. (Thought I might have needed to break it into two parts.)

## Beaumont Hospital 10:02:33

This was not a conversation I was looking forward to. Mainly due to the fact that I was pretty sure I knew how it was going to end. But it had to be done, so I forced myself to walk up to Pritchard’s room, and was not terribly surprised by the conversation.

“I’m not taking them. I can manage the pain,” Pritchard said, refusing to let a nurse come near him with an IV drip.

“Mr. Pritchard, I understand your concern-”

“No, I don’t think you do,” Pritchard replied. “If you did, you not be attempting to force me into using medication that inhibits my natural thought process and causes me to ramble on like a simpering idiot. Of course, given that you seem to be inclined to do so while sober, I suppose it would be hard for you to comprehend the difference.”

“Mr. Pritchard, I have to ask you-”

“No, I don’t. Want. It,” Pritchard said. “How difficult is it for you to understand one simple, two-letter word? _No._ I can eat on my own, and have no interest in further painkillers. As I said, I can handle it. Now, either do something actually productive, such as bringing me the tools I have asked for, or leave; preferably before I open my wound introducing my foot to your backside.”

I decided I’d save the poor woman, who looked about ready to strangle her difficult patient.

“In a good mood, Francis?” I asked, walking into the room.

“Does this look like a good mood to you, Jensen?” the technician asked. 

“I’m sorry sir, but you’ll have to wait until I’ve finished,” the nurse said, though she looked like she was more interested in leaving.

“Oh, aren’t we?” Pritchard asked, raising his brows. 

“Mr. Pritchard, as I have already explained, your body needs the painkillers in order to speed up the healing process,” the nurse said, turning to him. “You’ll be out of here sooner when you take them.”

“I’ll do without,” Pritchard said, glaring. I put my hand on the nurse’s shoulder.

“Let me talk to him,” I said. The woman opened her mouth to argue, then sighed and rolled her eyes.

“I guess it can’t hurt,” she said. She looked at Pritchard. “I’ll be back in twenty.”

“I hope you mean something longer than minutes,” the technician replied, and the woman huffed before stomping out of the room. “Incompetent-”

“She’s just doing her job,” I said, pulling up a chair. Pritchard rolled his eyes.

“Not very well,” he said. “So, to what do I owe the _privilege_ of your company?”

“Do you remember the conversation we had the other day?” I asked. Pritchard frowned.

“No. Why, did I say something idiotic?” he asked.

“No more than usual,” I said, earning a glare. “But there was something important I needed to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Pritchard asked. I held up the folder.

“First, you have to promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” I said. Pritchard arched a brow.

“That seems a little rich, coming from you, Jensen,” he said. I sighed. “And besides, this is me we’re talking about.”

“Yes, the man who decided to infiltrate a building crawling with mobsters to take out their mentally unstable leader without a weapon _or_ body armor,” I said.

“Point taken, I suppose,” Pritchard said. “I won’t do anything stupid. Happy?”

I waited a few minutes more, then handed Pritchard the folder. He took it curiously, then flipped it open. He stared, eyes going wide. I pushed him back by his shoulder before he could stand.

“Easy,” I said. Pritchard glared.

“Why didn’t you-”

“Because I knew you would react like this,” I said. “Francis, you need to try and stay calm.”

“My sister is in a coma and _pregnant_ and you want me to be _calm_?” the man demanded. I had to keep my grip on his shoulder to keep him from getting up.

“You can’t help her if you kill yourself trying to get to her,” I said. 

“I’m going, Jensen,” Pritchard said, still stubbornly trying to shrug me off.

“I know,” I said, and that finally made the technician stop and look at me. “I already asked Malik to wait for us on the roof. But I need you to stay calm so you don’t reopen your wound.”

“And just what makes you think my patient is going anywhere in hs condition?”

I turned around to see the nurse from earlier standing in the doorway, arms crossed. She raised a brow at me. 

“Because he’ll go one way or another,” I said. “At least this way he’s less likely to hurt himself.”

“Mm-hm,” the nurse said skeptically. Then she sighed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever said this to anyone before, but you’re lucky I don’t like you. Let me get your discharge papers and you’ll be able to get yourself hurt on your own time.”

“Looking forward to it,” Pritchard replied, smiling icily. The woman rolled her eyes as she left, and I arched a brow at the technician.

“A thank you probably wouldn’t have actually killed you,” I said.

“She wasn’t doing it for me,” Pritchard said, looking back to me. “She was doing it to get rid of me.”

“You sound proud of that,” I said. Pritchard rolled his eyes.

“Well, when you can’t charm people, you learn other ways to get what you want,” he said. 

“Oh, so you are an asshole on purpose,” I said, earning myself a glare. 

“And here I thought we were starting to get along,” Pritchard said drily. I felt a tug at the corner of my mouth. Then I held up a bag I’d brought with me, and set it on the bed. 

“Figured you might want something other than black leather to wear out of here,” I said, and walked out of the room as Pritchard grabbed the bag of clothes I’d gotten from his apartment. While I was waiting, the nurse returned.

“So, are you two rays of sunshine together, tall, dark and brooding?” she asked.

“No, we’re colleagues,” I said. The woman arched a brow.

“Mm-hm,” she said. “Well, whatever you are, I really don’t trust him to take his medication, so I’m going to tell you about it instead. This one is for pain, he can’t use acetaminophen or ibuprofen because they’re both blood thinners. He also has what we like to call blast lung, so no smoking, either. He needs to rest as much as possible to keep his wounds from opening up. No lifting anything above ten pounds. Got it?”

“Got it,” I said, mentally kicking myself already. The nurse gave me a pointed look, then knocked before waltzing into the room. I could hear her give the same speech to Pritchard, and wondered how hard it was going to be to actually get him to follow the doctor’s instructions. Especially the bit about no smoking.

Then Pritchard was out and dressed and the nurse was on her way, giving me another pointed look as she left.

“What was that about?” the technician asked suspiciously.

“She doesn’t seem to think you plan on following the doctor’s orders,” I replied. Pritchard scoffed.

“I don’t like strong pain killers, that doesn’t make me an idiot,” he said. I arched a brow.

“That still begs the question of entering a-”

“Maybe I’m better at taking care of myself then you would like to believe, Jensen,” Pritchard said, cutting me off. I felt my eyebrow raise a little higher as the technician walked past me, heading for the nearest elevator. I shook my head, remembering the conversation we’d had when the technician was still on painkillers. _Pseudo-assassins, right._ I still wasn’t sure how much of that I believed, but, well. What else was there?

I followed the Head of Cybersecurity up to the roof where, as promised, Malik was waiting. She was already in the cockpit and ready to go, and so Pritchard and I climbed in.

“Glad to see you on your feet again, Frank,” she said over the new VTOL’s speaker system as she took off.

“Agreed,” the technician said.

“So, anyone want to tell me why we’re flying to Cleveland?” Malik asked. I looked at Pritchard, who hesitated a moment before he sighed.

“My sister is being treated there,” he said. 

“You have a sister?” Malik asked. “I thought you were an only child.”

“It’s a long story,” Pritchard replied.

“Does this long story also explain why you were wearing leather in Jensen’s apartment? Because it’s like a twenty minute flight from here to there,” Malik said. 

“I’ll give you an abridged version,” Pritchard said drily. 

“Much appreciated,” Malik replied, and I could hear her smile. I watched Pritchard; the tech took in a deep breath, then let it go softly.

“When I was a teenager, I was part of the Abandoned gang,” he started.

“No shit?” Malik asked. Pritchard rolled his eyes.

“Don’t interrupt,” he said. “This happened after my parents died in a car accident, orphaning me and my sister, Mathilde. We joined the gang, got a juvie record. I was adopted by the then head of the British mafia to be his personal hacker; he died, I started my own group, got caught, and Sarif offered me a job.”

Malik whistled.

“That does sound like a long story,” she said. “Maybe you could give me the full version someday.”

“I suppose anything’s possible,” Pritchard said, arching a brow at me. I felt the ghost of a smile, remembering our conversation in my apartment.

“Hey, I’ll take you to that Chinese place you like and we’ll get drunk, my treat,” Malik replied, apparently not giving up.

“I’d rather not listen to your karaoke again,” Pritchard replied. “My ears are still recovering from last time.”

“Karaoke?” I asked. 

“Ooh! Yeah, you should come too, Adam!” Malik said. “We could do a duet and make Frank apologize for us.”

“Singing poorly is not generally a bragging point,” Pritchard replied. Malik chuckled.

“I don’t know, I think I can hit a new low,” she said. “Or you could sing, Frank.”

“That was one time and I was drunk,” Pritchard said, crossing his arms.

“But you were so _good!_ ” Malik said. “I didn’t even know you spoke Spanish!”

“Yes, I’m a magnificent wonder because I can speak another language and carry a tune,” Pritchard replied. 

“Don’t forget dance,” Malik chipped in. I arched a brow at Pritchard. 

“Dance?” I asked.

“I told you to come out clubbing!” Malik replied, before Pritchard had a chance. “You have no idea how much you’re missing, Spyboy.”

“Spyboy?” Pritchard asked. I shrugged. The technician raised his eyebrows briefly in a way which seemed to say _well, it is Malik._

“Frank has a nickname too, but he’s not a fan of it,” Malik said. Pritchard glared at the speaker.

“Oh?” I asked, intrigued.

“Please don’t,” Pritchard said.

“Techmaster,” Malik said, sounding proud of herself. I felt the tug of a smile again. Maybe one day I would take Malik up on her various offers at socializing. As long as it was one of the times she wasn’t hinting at setting me up with one of her friends.

“I told you not to call me that,” Pritchard said. 

“But that just makes it _more_ fun to call you it!” Malik replied. 

“You’re such a child,” Pritchard said.

“I know you are but what am I?” Malik taunted. 

“Really?” Pritchard asked. “Are we in elementary school now?”

“Does that mean you don’t like girls because they give you cooties?” Malik asked. 

“I don’t like people, girls are not an exception to the rule,” Pritchard replied. “Now can you top being a five year old for-”

“Girls go to college to get more knowledge, boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider,” Malik sang in response. Pritchard looked about ready to blow a gasket. I activated the CASIE mod, to make sure he wasn’t under too much stress. 

And, surprisingly, he wasn’t. In fact, he was becoming more relaxed as I watched. I blinked, to make sure, but it was true. The petty argument was actually helping reduce stress. Go figure.

“Yes… well… I’m rubber and you’re glue,” Pritchard finally replied, and I just about laughed out loud. “Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.”

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” Malik replied. “Doodyhead.”

“Doody-” Pritchard made probably the most indignant face I had ever seen him make, which was considerably impressive. “Then you’re a…. cootiequeen!”

“That’s the best you got, boogerbreath?” Malik said.

“Of course not, zitlord.”

“Buttface.”

“Zombiefart.”

“Do I have to put you two in time out?” I finally asked. As amusing as the insults were, we needed to be focused.

“Sorry, _mom_ ,” Malik said. 

“She started it,” Pritchard said, recrossing his arms and looking out the window. I couldn’t help it, I snorted. 

“Was that a laugh?” Malik asked. “Like a real, serious laugh?”

“Smile, too,” Pritchard remarked, off hand, like he hadn’t really noticed. I looked at him in surprise, and he looked back and smiled wanly himself as Malik made a noise of aggravation.

“Are you _kidding me_?” she demanded. “A laugh _and_ a smile? And I missed it?”

“Is there something important about me smiling?” I asked, not having realized I had until Pritchard mentioned it.

“Um, only that you never _do _? Like, _ever_ ,” Malik said. __

__“Faridah makes it her mission to, and I quote, ‘make all of the grumpy Guses she knows happy whether they like it or not’,” Pritchard said, seeming to be vaguely amused._ _

___“And I’m missing it!”_ Malik added, to remind everyone of her tragedy. I felt my smile fade as I thought about it. I really hadn’t smiled much in a long time. Not since… well. There were a lot of reasons for that. _ _

__“How much longer, Faridah?” Pritchard asked, seeming to sense my change in mood._ _

__“Any minute now,” the pilot said, and we didn’t speak for the remainder of the trip._ _

## Cleveland Hospital 11:22:06

__Malik set down the VTOL on a nearby building, and from there we walked into the hospital. There was a woman at the front desk with hair from the 1950s chewing gum._ _

__“Excuse me,” Pritchard started, getting her attention. He pulled out the a crumpled picture and showed it to her. “Do you know where this woman is?”_ _

__“Coma mom? Yeah, sure, why?” she asked, taking the picture to look at it._ _

__“I’m her brother,” Pritchard said. The woman stared. Then she looked at the picture again, and did a double take._ _

__“Her-excuse me,” the woman said, getting up to walk away, then paused. “Mind if I borrow this a second?”_ _

__Pritchard nodded, and the woman went off, back into the hospital._ _

__“Coma mom?” Malik asked. Pritchard didn’t seem to be paying attention, so I answered._ _

__“She’s pregnant and in a coma,” I said, and Malik whistled._ _

__The woman returned with another woman, an Indian woman with dark skin and bionic eyes. The woman gave Pritchard his picture back, and the doctor held out her hand._ _

__“Hello, I’m Dr. Joshi, mister…?”_ _

__“Frank Pritchard,” the man said, shaking her hand._ _

__“I understand you believe our Jane Doe is your sister, Mr. Pritchard?” the doctor asked, taking her hand back to scroll down to another page on her eClipboard._ _

__“I do,” Pritchard said. “Her name is Mathilde Adams, age 36.”_ _

__“The age does fit our estimate, well, when you take the aging effects of the drugs into account,” Joshi replied. “But, if you don’t mind, we’d like to do some tests to confirm you two are actually related. No offense, there are a lot of bad people out there.”_ _

__“None taken. What do you need me to do?” Pritchard asked. It was… odd, to see the technician calm and cooperative. But then, the whole situation was odd._ _

__“If your associates could wait out here, I’d just like to take a quick blood sample to compare your DNA,” Joshi replied, holding out a hand to not quite touch Pritchard as she led him down a hallway. Malik and I found seats on a bench nearby._ _

__“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Malik asked._ _

__“What do you mean?” I replied. The pilot sighed, leaning back on her hands._ _

__“I mean… this seems like a big deal for him, you know?” she said, people watching. “A twin sister he hasn’t seen in years, pregnant and in a coma… were they close, do you know?”_ _

__“... it sounded like they were,” I said. Malik nodded, then had a thought._ _

__“Wait, how much more of this do you know then me?” she asked, sitting up to glare at me._ _

__“Not much,” I said, wondering what had set her off this time. “We were just talking before the building was taken over.”_ _

__“What? No fair!” Malik said, throwing her hands up and leaning back against the wall._ _

__“Are you ok?” I asked._ _

__“I have been trying to get Frank to pull the stick out of his ass since he started working at Sarif Industries, and you two barely like each other, and then he goes and opens up to you!” Malik said. I didn’t really have anything to say to that. I was as surprised as she was at that turn of events. So I leaned back as well._ _

__“I am glad he opened up, though,” Malik said, after some time. “He just… doesn’t seem to have anyone. I mean, me and Shauna try to get him to go out and stuff, but he just doesn’t want to connect with anyone. I guess it’s not surprising, especially considering how different we are. So I’m glad he talked to someone. Even if it wasn’t me.”_ _

__I didn’t have anything to say to that, either. A bit later, Pritchard reappeared._ _

__“It’s going to take several hours to get it all sorted out, apparently, but they are going to compare the DNA sample they already have to Matts’s to see if that matches up,” he said, joining us on the bench with a sigh._ _

__“And then what?” Malik asked. Pritchard shrugged._ _

__“Depends on the information they get, I suppose,” he said. I looked over at him._ _

__“There’s not really anything stopping us from going to her room, you know,” I said. Pritchard shook his head._ _

__“I know,” he said. “I just…”_ _

__His hands, clutched together in his lap, were shaking. Malik put a hand on his shoulder, then smiled._ _

__“Hey, it’ll be ok,” she said. Pritchard tried to smile back, thinly, but only briefly._ _

__“Thanks,” he said. Then he stood, looked around as if he didn’t know where he was, then looked at us. “Uh, well, um… shall we?”_ _

__Malik and I looked at each other, then stood. Pritchard went back to the woman at the desk and asked where a room was. He looked like he would lose his nerve any minute, wringing his hands as he followed the directions to the room. It was the last one on the third floor. Outside, Pritchard took a deep breath, steadying himself. He was still for some time._ _

__“Frank? You ok?” Malik asked. The man looked at her. He looked… scared._ _

__“I’m, um…” he said. He glanced past her at me. It was like a plea. I nodded. Pritchard took another deep breath, then slid open the door and walked inside quickly. Malik and I followed after, and I hung back, watching._ _

__There she was, hooked up to various machines and tubes. She looked thin and pale, but better than she’d been in the picture from the Homeland Security file. Pritchard walked around the bed, to the side less crowded with machinery. He looked like he was seeing a ghost. Hand trembling, he reached out, hesitated, then took his sister’s hand._ _

__He seemed to collapse in on himself, becoming a shadow of himself. He clutched his sister’s hand, the other hand covering hers, sandwiching it between his. And he started to cry._ _

__“Matts,” he said, voice thick with emotion. He leaned over, kissing her on the forehead. “I’m so sorry.”_ _

__He didn’t seem to notice Malik move a chair closer for him, or as she guided him to sit down. He started breaking into sobs, pulling his sister’s hand closer to himself. He was murmuring softly, but I could still hear it. Just the same thing, over and over, an apology. I felt out of place, like I was seeing something I wasn’t supposed to see. This was a very private moment, and I didn’t belong. Malik walked back over, and indicated we should go outside._ _

__“I need to head back to take Sarif to a meeting,” she said softly. “Do you want me to take you back?”_ _

__I looked through the glass door, at Pritchard and his sister. The man was a mess._ _

__“No,” I said. “I’ll stay.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have had this scene in my head for a while, glad I could finally get to it. Also, no, I don't know where the conversation in the VTOL came from.
> 
> So, we've gone through a week in this story, let's do a week recap:
> 
> Pritchard was kidnapped by his passionate ex-lover who happens to run a developing mafia specializing in drugs, Adam learned a lot about his coworker he never knew there was to know, aforementioned gang took over the SI building, Frank made his ex-lover blow up and subsequently was injured from being caught in an explosion and then found out where his long lost twin sister was and found her in a coma and pregnant. 
> 
> ... not bad for a week, eh?


	9. Day Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things settle down.

## Holiday Inn 07:15:00

I got my wake-up call right on time. I shook my head, trying to shake out the last feelings of sleep. I looked up, at the other bed in the room. Pritchard had already left; we’d split the cost of the room since it wasn’t a company expense. He was probably at the hospital already, doing… whatever he was doing. I stood, stretching. It helped clear my head. 

After a shower, someone pinged my com. The name came up on my HUD. Sarif. I sighed, walking over to the window as I put it through. 

“Something you need, boss?” I asked. It was overcast outside, but the light reflected painfully off the clouds. It looked like it had rained earlier, and probably would again.

“Other than both my security heads back in Detroit?” Sarif asked. He sounded annoyed, which, given the circumstances, was fair enough. I walked back through the room, checking that I had everything.

“Sorry, we had a situation that couldn’t wait,” I said. Having everything, I pulled on my coat and grabbed the room key. Then I sat on one of the beds. Sarif sighed.

“So I’ve heard,” he said. “Listen, son, I have a lot of patience, but I need you to tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s a… delicate situation,” I said. I wanted to tell him what was going on, but I didn’t want to reveal more about Pritchard than the man would himself. 

“Adam, you and Frank took off without any warning. I don’t give a damn about how ‘delicate’ the situation is, I need to know what’s going on,” Sarif demanded. I sighed. Well, he’d find out one way or another.

“We’re here because of Pritchard’s twin sister,” I started, leaning against the headboard. 

“His what?” Sarif asked. He sounded as floored as anyone else. 

“Pritchard has a twin sister, who’s at the Cleveland Hospital in a coma… and pregnant,” I said. Sarif was quiet, so I went on. “They were separated when Pritchard was adopted. The rest is… complicated.”

“It seems like everything is lately,” the boss said, and I felt a bitter chuckle work its way up my throat. 

“No kidding,” I said. On the other end, Sarif sighed theatrically. 

“Well, given all the craziness of late, I’m willing to cut you two some slack,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do about getting Frank’s sister moved to a hospital in Detroit. When you get back, I’ll ask him about the situation.”

“That’s probably for the best,” I said, standing. “And… thanks, boss.”

“Just try to brief me beforehand next time, alright?” Sarif asked. 

“Will do,” I said. I was about to hang up, but there was a sound like Sairf was taking a breath to say something. “Boss?”

“How is Frank?” he asked. “Seems like he’s been going through some hard times lately.”

I thought over the past… had it really only been a week. I shook my head. Hard times was a bit of an understatement.

“He’s shaken up, but he’ll be alright,” I said. Sarif let out a sigh of relief.

“Good. I don’t think I could find anyone as good as him to run SI’s cyber security department,” he said, a wry note to his tone. 

“Anything else you need, boss?” I asked. 

“No, that’ll be all for now, son,” he said. I made an affirmative noise and cut the connection. I looked around the hotel room one more time. 

I thought about sleeping a few more hours. Pritchard hadn’t slept well, and consequentially, neither had I. There’d even been a point in the middle of the night when he’d half shouted, but he hadn’t made a sound after that, so I hadn’t said anything. He had been through a lot lately; nightmares were par for the course. All men had a right to face their demons alone. 

I sighed, and left the room.

## Cleveland Hospital 08:34:08

Navigating through the hospital wasn’t much of a problem, and I stopped to get coffee on my way up to the room. I heard someone speaking as I approached the room, and slowed. I glanced into the room, to make sure I wasn’t interrupting anything, and paused.

The sound I heard was Pritchard, reading from a beat up old paperback book. He sat next to the bed, leaning on the armrest and one leg crossed on the other knee. I listened, caught by surprise.

> _“In the name of the Order of Aisha, Fallen of the Mountain, I place you under arrest,” Allaha said, stepping into the light. She took in the crowd. Most were angry and scared, but a few were skeptical._
> 
> _“Look! E’s bewitched the Knight of the Mountain!” Dasbul declared. “And e’s two other women in ‘is shed! Naked, no less!”_
> 
> _“One is injured, I’m treating her wound,” Alastair said. He was clearly nervous, but not as much as Dasbul. The hunter retreated from the advancing knight._
> 
> _“Does she ‘ave ta be naked fer that? And what ‘bout tha other one?” the hunter demanded._
> 
> _“She’s-”_
> 
> _“It’s a wolf!”_
> 
> _All hell broke loose as a townsman ran from the shed a wolf snarling from the entrance. Allaha lunged for Dasbul, who ducked away as the crowd closed in. The knight could not risk harming them, and they ended up taking her sword and dagger away from her. They tied her up with Alastair and the female wolf._

“What is that?” I asked, stepping into the room. Pritchard flinched in surprise, looking up. Then he relaxed, and marked his place in the book before closing it. He held it up, and I looked at the cover. _Wildflowers: Allaha of the Mountain._

“Matts loved that series. I have no idea why, they never exactly got popular, but it is what it is,” he said, taking the book back. “So I stopped at a used bookstore and they happened to have a copy of it.”

“Lucky break,” I said, leaning against the wall. Pritchard nodded, looking back at his siter. She didn’t look any better or worse since yesterday. I looked around the room. “Who brought flowers?”

“I did,” Pritchard said. I walked over to the flowers. They were white; lilies or something. “Matts loved flowers. Well, plants in general. She wanted to be a botanist. Said the latin name for every plant she saw to remind herself.”

“What are these?” I asked. They looked expensive. Pritchard sighed. 

“Lilium candidum,” he said. “Also her favorite.”

I nodded, then turned to lean against the wall again. This side provided me with an angle to see the other man in the room. I took a drink of my coffee.

“I spoke with Sarif this morning,” I said. Pritchard sighed again, readjusting the way he was sitting. 

“What did David have to say?” he asked. He looked… tired, mainly. 

“He’s not happy,” I said, which cause Pritchard to roll his eyes, “But he understands. He said he’s going to try and get a transport for… your sister. Back to Detroit.”

“Well, that’s… kind of him,” Pritchard said. “I suppose I’ll have to thank him when we get back.”

“It would be the polite thing to do,” I said. Pritchard snorted and leaned back.

“In that case I’m off the hook for that one,” he said. I arched a brow, and he smiled wanly. “Please, Jensen, when have you ever known me to be polite?”

“You could try,” I said, but could feel the start of an answering smile. 

“But it would ruin my reputation,” Pritchard went on. “And then I’ll have people coming to ask me to help them with things. Or I’ll be forced to stand around engaging in inane chatter about the weather and how are the wife and kids and other things I don’t care about. I think it might actually kill me. Is that your plan? To kill me with boredom?”

“If I wanted to kill you, I’d do it a lot quicker than that,” I said. “Otherwise I’d have to listen to you complain about it the entire time, and that would just ruin the moment.”

“Letting you have your moment would be polite, I suppose,” Pritchard said. I shook my head.

“I think that qualifies as ‘decent’,” I said. Pritchard crossed his arms.

“And is that before or after polite?” he asked. 

“Before,” I said. “You can be decent without being polite.”

“Hm, but do I have to care about other people at the level of decent?” Pritchard asked. 

“I’m afraid so,” I replied. Pritchard thought, then shrugged.

“Too much effort,” he said. I snorted.

“We’ll work on making you civil,” I said. “It’s a step before decent, and doesn’t require caring about other people. It just means learning to hide your seething hatred in silence.”

“Oooh, seething, nicely done,” Pritchard said. I tipped my cup in acknowledgement. “What about utter contempt? Can I show that and be civil?”

“As long as you don’t have utter contempt for everything I don’t see a problem,” I said. 

“So much for that, then,” Pritchard said. I snorted, and took a drink of my coffee. What were we even doing? I looked up again, and Pritchard was looking at his sister.

“Do they know… how far along she is?” I asked. Pritchard sighed.

“They estimate about six months,” he said. I nodded. There was silence between us for a time. I tried to think of something to say, but was unaccustomed to filling up silences. Finally, I remembered something.

“When you were on painkillers-”

“Do we have to talk about that?” Pritchard asked. He seemed resigned, however, so I went on.

“When you were on painkillers,” I started again. Pritchard looked over at me, waiting for me to continue. “You asked if you could use my first name.”

“I did?” Pritchard asked, arching a brow. It was hard to tell if he was acting or not, so I shrugged. 

“You made a few points on the matter,” I said. 

“Such as?” Pritchard asked, leaning his head on his hand.

“You aren’t a soldier, and we’ve known each other for a… good amount of time,” I said. I shifted my weight. Pritchard, for once, seemed completely at ease. Which was… odd. He was usually on edge at all times, especially outside of his space. I brought up my CASIE implant to check. Sure enough, the man was more nervous than he was letting on. Interesting.

“What’s your point?” Pritchard asked. I cleared my throat.

“That you can,” I said. There was a palpable pause. “Use my first name, I mean.”

“I… got that,” Pritchard said. He shifted his weight in his seat. “I’ll… do that. Adam.”

I nodded, and took a drink from my coffee as we fell into silence again. I looked out the large window. It was raining now; the sound of pitter-pattering drops a backwash to the gray world. It was like white noise, filtering in through the cracks. 

“You know,” Pritchard said, and paused when I looked over. He seemed to hesitate, then snorted smiled ruefully. “If you aren’t careful, you might start to sound like you care.”

“Reminds me of someone else I know,” I said, raising a brow. Pritchard shook his head, and looked over at his sister again. 

“So, tell me, did I say anything else I should know about while under the influence?” he asked. 

“Nothing important, Francis,” I said. The man turned to give me an appraising look, but said no more. That was when Dr. Joshi entered the room.

“Good news, Mr. Pritchard,” she said, and the man stood. “It looks like everything checks out with your bloodwork, and a transport has been arranged to move Ms. Adams to Beaumont Hospital.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Francis said, shaking her hand. 

“I also had a message that you have your own transport waiting for you nearby,” the doctor said. “And that you’d know who to contact.”

I was already calling Malik as Pritchard and the doctor wrapped up their conversation. 

“Hey, spyboy, ready for pick-up?” she asked. 

“As soon as Pritchard wraps up his conversation with the doctor, it looks that way,” I said. “Where are you?”

“Same building I landed on when we got here yesterday,” she said. “And, just a heads up, I have Sarif on board.”

“Thanks, flygirl,” I said, and cut the connection. I looked up to see Pritchard waiting. “Malik’s waiting with Sarif nearby.”

“Oh, goodie. Just who I wanted to see,” the man said. Then he sighed. “Well, I suppose there’s no use putting it off.”

“Not unless you’re trying to test the boss’s patience,” I said. Pritchard nodded in agreement, and we left.

## Adam Jensen’s Apartment 10:03:54

I sighed as I entered my apartment. It was hard to believe it was only ten in the morning. The day felt longer, stretched out and thin. Or maybe that was just me. 

I collapsed onto the couch, and turned on the news. I wasn’t paying it much attention. Something about serial bombings across the country. There was an FBI agent taking questions at a press conference about the event, a latin-american woman with dark skin and bright eyes. She had a nice smile, but it seemed a bit misplaced given the situation.

I closed my eyes, letting the conversation fade into incomprehensible sounds. I could still hear the cadence of speech, but the words no longer held meaning. 

I thought over the last week. It was like a personal debrief. It was also how I made sure I hadn’t left any loose ends. It had helped make me a better cop, and never quite left me.

Pritchard went missing. He was kidnapped by members of a gang he used to belong to. He was recovered mostly unharmed. No signs of imminent psychological break down. The gang’s leadership was all killed after they raided Sarif Industries. The sewer entrance is scheduled to be closed while the other repairs to the building are occurring, and proximity sensors have been added to the roof to alert security of incoming transport or personnel. Amazingly, no one had died, though there were some security team members still recovering. 

 

And then there was Mathilde Adams. Pritchard’s twin sister, in a coma and entering her third trimester. Moved from a hospital in Cleveland to one in Detroit. I sighed, opening my eyes.

There was a different FBI agent talking now, an older guy with tan skin and dark hair pulled back. He looked more serious than his partner, and spoke curtly. He seemed to be ignoring half the reporters, assuring the camera that they would find the culprit behind the attacks. 

I shook my head and stood, turning off the TV. No loose ends. Just a lot of shit. 

Feeling very tired, I walked into my room and slid into bed.

## Beaumont Hospital 17:18:22

Pritchard was asleep when I walked into the room. He had the beat up paperback in his lap, and looked as tired as I had felt earlier. I let him sleep a little longer, putting a second vase of flowers next to the first, already on the window sill. Visiting hours would be over soon, but not quite yet. I looked over at the still comatose Mathilde Adams. 

She actually looked a little… healthier, than she had before. Maybe it was the reading Pritchard had been doing. I shook my head. What a life. Hopefully, things would turn out alright. But I wasn’t much for hope.

I left the room, and found a nearby coffee machine. I got a cup, snatched some sugar and cream, and took it back to the room. Pritchard was still asleep, and I placed the coffee on a table nearby. I thought about rousing the man, then dismissed it. A nurse would be in soon enough, and it looked like Pritchard needed the rest. I’d only stopped by to leave the flowers.

I left the hospital in no hurry. It was raining outside, as I hailed a cab. I watched the building retreat as the cab drove off. After everything, things could have been worse. They could have been better, but they could have been worse. I turned around, settling in my seat.

Maybe there was cause for hope. It couldn’t make things worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, you vultures. 
> 
> I'm kidding, I love you guys. Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> (Also, the story Pritchard was reading is my original novel. Hit me up if you're interested!)


End file.
